


The Night Life

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blind Date, Blindfolds, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Humor, Hook-Up, Kink Exploration, Light Bondage, M/M, No vampires, Online Dating, Safewords, Sensation Play, Smut, Trust, uncomfortable sexual tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24160699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: Jonathan Reid is a tired ER doctor with no time for romance. His roommate and best friend, Clarence, decides that the good doctor needs to give it a chance. Jonathan decided to humor his friend and let him make a dating profile for him on some new popular site. He wasn't expecting the end result, or to find out this "dating site" was primarily for sex.(Alternative summary: Jonathan's guide to BDSM done right and his exploration into the lifestyle and the limits of his own body and curiosity.)
Relationships: Clarence Crossley & Jonathan Reid, Geoffrey McCullum & Guard of Priwen, Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 37
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a joke conversation but after about twenty minutes of considering it, I decided to write it up.

"Your boy is back." Nurse Hawkins alerted Jonathan from where he was leaned behind the reception desk. A half empty cup of coffee sat by the paperwork he was filling out at the start of his shift. The night was relatively quiet, it was just after supper time for most people, which usually meant a lull before the worst of the night life would emerge. London was far from quiet and uneventful, especially when the weekends came. The beer would flow and the sports games on the television would invite aggressive drunks to begin brawls.

Which led to his current problem patient.

Jonathan adjusted his white coat, smoothing the wrinkles out of the front as he headed to one of the enclosed beds which currently had Officer Mary McKinley standing beside it. A young promising rookie who joined the local force with his brother Charlie. They had recently become a fixture in his ER with troublesome ruffians. Tonight, McKinley was dressed down in simple blue jeans and an olive green sweater, an apologetic look on his face as he stepped away from the curtains. The good doctor already heard the muffled cursing of his resident problem child. He didn't even need to ask to know when Geoffrey McCullum would enter his ER.

The entirety of the staff groaned in dealing with his prickly demeanor and his bitter attitude. He would scowl, glare and attempt to smart mouth his way out of being checked over, which would end with Jonathan always winning in the end. Trying to handle Geoffrey was like trying to bathe a feral cat. You're bound to get more than a few scratches in the process. Luckily for Jonathan, he was always prepared with gloves.

"Another bar fight, Mr. McCullum?" Jonathan asked, already pulling on a pair of gloves to address the injuries on the Irishman's face. He had a split lip and a black eye, which was pretty typical for this sort of situation. The front of the thin grey t-shirt he wore was stained in splotches of red, though it was hard to say as to whose blood it was. Some even managed to spray the thigh of his faded blue jeans, Jonathan noted.

"Sod off." He grunted. "I don't need no Doc quacking over me. I've been henned enough as is."

"At least this time is an improvement. No handcuffs." Jonathan said dryly. He was well aware of Geoffrey's reputation. He wasn't aggressive enough to start a fight, but he was short tempered enough to end one. Jonathan remembered the first time he came in with a broken hand from punching a man so hard he broke his jaw. There were three other men who accompanied him, one with splinters in his back from a shattered pool stick. Another had a massive concussion and missing teeth.

"I didn't start it." Geoffrey growled.

"Of course not, Mr. McCullum, but contrary to who started it, nobody ever really wins." Jonathan explained, gesturing towards his sorry state while he began the process of cleaning the open wounds on his knuckles and wiping the blood off of his face. He went about the usual routine, checking for hidden signs of a head injury. Geoffrey would grumble and curse, spitting insults like a wet cat.

They always rolled over Jonathan's back and by the end of the visit, Geoffrey would quiet down once the majority of his adrenaline and his heated temper would wear off. McKinley stood by worrying his lip between his teeth and chewing the bottom part nearly raw. Despite his age, his freckles never really faded from his cheeks and the wavy red hair was combed back hastily with anxious fingers. A silver cross hung from his neck, resting over his breast bone. Jonathan noticed his brother often wore a similar piece, carefully tucked inside the front of their uniforms. They were both close friends of Mr. McCullum's and were often the reason he even agreed to show up in the first place. Well, when it didn't involve handcuffs.

It wasn't long before Jonathan had cleared Geoffrey to head home. All he had to do was sign out with Nurse Hawkins. McKinley assured the doctor that he would give McCullum a ride home. With one less concern on his mind, he continued his work for the evening.

  
  


* * *

  
  


"You need to get laid, Jonny." Clarence offered from where he was currently stretched across the doctor's couch. His feet were kicked up with a pair of fuzzy slippers covering them while he played an app game on his phone. He wore a baggy pair of sweatpants and a worn out white t-shirt to cover his slight frame.

The pair had served in Afghanistan together, but through all that, Clarence remained the long limbed lanky young man he always was. A bit too clumsy and always too paranoid for his own well being. He was Jonathan's best mate since grade school, and they were practically inseparable. Never one without the other.

Which often led to times like now. Where Clarence lollygagged on Jonathan's couch day in and day out, a recent predicament after Venus left him. Of course, she couldn't do what most war torn wives had done and sent him a Dear John letter during his service, she held on long enough for Clarence to come home and promptly left him. The divorce was about as ugly as could be expected. She was grief stricken when Clarence returned a broken traumatized soldier, no longer the man she had fallen in love with when they were in University together. As far as Jonathan was concerned, that didn't excuse her behavior or her sudden desperation to take everything from him on the way out. Fortune favored them, and Jonathan had helped his old friend by supplying a very good lawyer, who helped protect Clarence from her advances. With nowhere left to go, the man had taken up a nearly permanent position on the good doctor's couch.

The upside, Jonathan could keep a close eye on him and ensure he was taking his medication from his therapist and making it to his appointments on time. The downside were conversations like these.

"What makes you think that?" Jonathan asked as he sat in the armchair adjacent the couch and continued reading his book. He had taken a liking to a detective series one of his comrades recommended to him during his service and he's been reading it nonstop since they returned home. The first two volumes had been lent to him while over there, and he read them in between stitching up wounds and treating heat exhaustion.

"When was the last time you had a date?" Clarence asked, peering around his screen to meet the doctor's gaze. Jonathan raised a questioning brow at that and shook his head. 

"May I remind you that  _ getting laid _ and dating have two vastly different goals?" He turned the page and sighed. "I don't know. Sometime around medical school."

"High school you mean?" Clarence chuckled.

"It's not been that long, Clarence." Jonathan chastised. 

"Dinner banquets don't count, Jonny. Your 'date' was just as eager to get the night over with as you were." Which was true. Jonathan had asked an acquaintance to fill the shoes of his date for the banquet. She had the same problem, with no interest in finding anyone to actually be intimate with, and neither wanted to attend alone. It was an arranged partnership for the three hours they were required to act like a couple then they never spoke again outside of work necessity. He was pretty sure she was now dating the pretty blonde lab technician in their hospital.

"You're right." Jonathan conceded and returned his attention back to the page. "I don't have the time for a serious relationship, Clarence."

"Then don't have a serious relationship." He chimed. "They have these apps now where it's just for hooking up, meeting like minded people and having sex."

"That's how you get STDs, Clarence." Jonathan chided, setting his book down in his lap with his finger slipped between the pages to hold his place.

"Nonsense." He was adamant as he popped up off the couch and walked towards Jonathan. The doctor narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously before realization dawned on him. Clarence scooped up the doctor's cell phone and started downloading an app to the device while wandering around the room. Jonathan had enough of a mind to bookmark his page before springing up after him. 

"What are you doing? Clarence!" He grabbed at his phone only to have the smaller man duck out of the way and slip past him. Racing into the kitchen with a shit eating grin.

"Let me just show you it!" He pleaded as Jonathan approached. Clarence kept the island between him and the doctor to thwart any sneaky attempts to interrupt his progress. "I promise you won't regret it."

"I find that really hard to believe." Jonathan huffed. "Fine, I'll let you have your fun for now."

Clarence smiled and eased around the island until he was leaned against the kitchen counter, standing beside Jonathan so he could show him the app. To Jonathan's horror, it wasn't just a dating or hook up app. It looked like a sex fetish site.

"Username?" Clarence hummed thoughtfully.

"No." Jonathan answered bluntly. 

"Dr.FeelGood."

"Clarence, no."

"Age range?"

" _ Clarence!" _

"Mid thirties to early forties. Top or bottom?"

"Clarence!"

"Bottom it is then."

  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Maybe it was insanity. Maybe it was curiosity, but either way, Jonathan kept the app and the account on his phone. Some vain part of him hoped he'd get a few interested bites, maybe it would spur on his self-esteem a little bit. It felt thrilling and a bit guilty when he'd check the app every few hours. He blamed boredom for the most part, but he still felt anxious about having something like this as a part of his life. A dating app was one thing, plenty of respectable people frequent dating apps. But a fetish site? And one tailored for quite the extreme tastes might he add, was not something he had ever considered.

Clarence reassured him with promises that nobody ever shared their faces on these types of websites so there was no chance that anyone would recognize him. He doubted anyone of interest would even frequent it, and especially none of his coworkers.

The profile image Clarence setup was an aesthetically pleasing black and white image of his back, bent over his work bench tinkering with some trifle or another. His pants accentuated his ass and the thin white button up was spread snug over his shoulders, making the muscle tone more prominent. He wasn't even sure  _ how _ or even  _ when  _ Clarence had taken the picture and had the time to add it to Jonathan's profile. Several other pictures joined the gallery, all of them were carefully framed and artfully orchestrated, showing off his fit physique. More than half were of him performing his morning workout routine. None showed his face, always cropped at the neck or from the jaw down where the edges of his beard would peek through.

Jonathan will admit, Clarence did always have a talent for photography. He had a sharp eye and saw what others often easily overlooked. Always finding the potential in his surroundings.

The novelty of the app had worn off after a few days. He had forgotten about it entirely after a week had passed. His attention had been redirected towards his work as the nights got longer and he spent an entire shift babysitting a psyche patient while awaiting approval to have them transferred. They had to pump the woman's stomach after police found her trying to eat a live rat raw. She turned out to be a recent missing person that had walked out of her home one day without any word to her family members.

Jonathan was on his considerably late lunch break when his phone vibrated in his pocket, drawing him to glance down out of curiosity. He suspected it was Clarence complaining that he hadn't yet gone grocery shopping today like he said he would. He popped a grape into his mouth and checked the notification only to find it was not Clarence at all.

_ You have an invite! 😘 _

_ 'An invite?'  _ Jonathan thought in confusion. "An invite from who?" He glanced around quickly, securing his privacy for the moment while he opened the message.

****

**_G. McHotty_ **

As amusing as the username was, Jonathan had to agree when the profile picture loaded. A muscular torso in pale lighting capturing a glossy shine. At the base of his belly, just below the navel was a happy trail leading down to a pair of leather pants with a silver belt buckle. It stopped at the hips, leaving quite a lot for the imagination. Jonathan's cheeks burned as his errant thoughts dabbled in unwelcome suggestions. His curiosity made him accept the invite before briskly closing the app before one of his coworkers sees.

He was distracted for the remainder of his shift and even through the grocery store on the way home. He nearly forgot what it was he came into the store to buy to begin with and had to make a second trip around the aisles for good measure.

He should have been crawling into bed, but that disapproving angel on his shoulder held no sway against the curious devil in Jonathan's heart that had him searching through this McHotty's rather extensive gallery. Some of which were pictures of him in various poses that only begged for indulgence, some of him holding a crop in hand with a dominant stance that may have fueled a pleasant daydream or two, and others showed the plethora of equipment at the man's disposal. From the looks of it, Jonathan could safely say he may have just stolen the interest of a professional Dom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoffrey's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Svart-Jade for helping me write out the text convo and being my Jonathan. It was weird texting back and forth for that scene, but fun nonetheless.

“Another, O’Connor.” Geoffrey flattened his palm against the counter to get the bartender’s attention. The hulking bear of an Irishman nodded in understanding, taking a moment to finish stacking the freshly cleaned glasses. Geoffrey fiddled with his phone, scrolling through his messages in idle passing. It was a decent way to waste time most days, taking his mind off of the workload that kept him busy on the clock. For now, he was very much off the clock and enjoying his little side hobby.

He glanced up with a grunted. “Thank ya.” while O’Connor refilled his glass with whiskey. The bartender leaned against the counter, arms crossed expectantly as he eyed his friend up and down.

“The shiners gone.” He prompted, drawing the man into conversation. 

Geoffrey nodded and set his phone aside to capture his glass, taking a long draft of his drink. “Aye.” It had been a week or so since the last brawl. The bruise looked worse than it actually was and cleared up pretty quickly, thankfully. It meant he could indulge again. The split lip was almost completely gone as well, just the tiniest bit of swelling when he’d irritate it here and there. Usually while eating.

“Who you prowling after now?” O’Connor inquired. It was no secret among his friends that Geoffrey spent his weekends in his little studio escape, with whatever pretty little thing just so happened to find its way inside his den. A couple of them had been curious enough to go a few sessions with him, once in a while they would shoot him a message for the benefits of their encounters but most of the time it remained professional.

His last submissive found the love of their life on some Valentine’s Day cruise and ended their contract. He’s been bouncing from person to person looking for a replacement but so far nothing has caught his eye.

“I don’t know.” He tapped his screen to bring it to life and scowled at the first image to cross his feed. It was, to put it simply, a dick. One that Geoffrey recognized. O’Connor sighed.

“Is that Vincent?”

“Yup.” Geoffrey didn’t even need to check the username, though _Mr.Quickshot_ was not a flattering name for someone looking to get laid. “Looks like he’s showing off a new glow-in-the-dark cockring.”

“When did he post that?”

“Fifteen minutes ago.” Geoffrey took another draw from his glass and downed the amber liquid in a few quick swallows. “Isn’t he supposed to be working?”

“Yup.” 

“Beat his arse.”

“If only I could.” O’Connor rolled his eyes. His problematic bartender was the least of his worries most days. 

Geoffrey set his empty glass aside and scrolled further down to find the other half to the nitwit duo. “Babic working tonight?”

“Should be coming in soon.” O’Connor checked the clock on the wall behind the bar. “About an hour.”

“That’s where your bartender is.”

“Of fucking course.” O’Connor shook his head and stepped away from the counter. “I don’t want to know what they’re doing.”

“Nothing bad, yet.” Geoffrey chuckled. Vukasin’s profile image was the Serbian man deep throating the neck of a bottle of Serbian Brandy. The current picture was his face resting on the inside of Vincent’s thigh, scowling at the camera with the glow-in-the-dark cockring in full view. His body sprawled between Vincent’s legs in the perfect pose for a blowjob. Judging by the shine on his lips and how swollen they appeared, that may be exactly what those two had been up to. Given the dim lighting, and the mess of blankets tangled around the edges of the image, he suspected they were at Vincent’s apartment right down the street.

“Here you are, Geoffrey.” A sweet female voice called, causing the Irishman to quickly turn off his phone as O’Connor stepped back. O’Connor’s wife, Gertrude came over with a tray of food. It was still early in the day, just past two in the afternoon. After the usual lunch rush but in that quiet lull before dinner that Geoffrey enjoyed hanging out in.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” He nodded, accepting the burger and chips she cooked up from scratch behind the bar.

He should have expected the swat that landed atop his head as she huffed. “Call me Gertrude.” She looked at him sternly, drawing a laugh from both men. Geoffrey was still getting used to the fact O’Connor of all people ended up married. And to a woman a third of his size. Between the two of them, they ruled this neighborhood with a firm hand and the best pub food the city had to offer. It was a nice taste of home for most folks, especially those not from the city itself.

“Sorry, Gertrude.” He smiled, popping a chip in his mouth and reaching for his glass. He raised a brow in momentary confusion when it was refilled. “You’re fucking magical.” He chuckled when he spotted the bottle tucked into O’Connor’s fist as he returned the cap to it.

He opened his phone after a couple bites into his burger once the coast was clear and O’Connor went back to his usual routine. He glossed over Vukasin's profile, username _The-Prince-Of-Fuck-These._ Yes, he was aware that the idiots picked each other’s usernames and that is the only reason why they make any kind of sense.

He rolled his eyes and continued scrolling, eventually shedding away from his newsfeed to go and browse through potentials in his search range. He needed some fresh blood to mingle with, something tasty to chomp at the bit. Most of the results were either too old, too scrawny or too sketchy looking to call it safe or sanitary. The easiest giveaway was the profile pictures, the galleries were secondary and whatever interests were attached.

He was nearly finished with his meal when someone finally caught his eye. The images were well done, handled by someone who knows how to _show_ and not tell. There was plenty to be left to the imagination. The subject of each picture was fit and the center of attention, drawing Geoffrey’s eye to all the best parts the man had to offer. He glanced at the username and chuckled. 

“Dr.FeelGood, eh?” The account was relatively new but seemed to hit all of Geoffrey’s interests. From what he could see by the little tells in the image, the man was neatly trimmed and well groomed. The surrounding space was clean and organized. He wondered if he really was a doctor, or just playing with the moniker. His curiosity made him bite, sending an invite to friend and chat.

He was surprised at how quickly the invite was accepted, drawing a smile to his lips in amusement. Maybe he just got lucky with the timing.

  
  


* * *

  
  


_G.McHotty is typing…….._

G.McHotty : 

_I see you're new to the site._

_Impressive pictures by the way._

  
  


Dr.FeelGood : 

_Thank you._

_I enjoyed looking through your gallery as well._

_I see you have a fondness for crops and leather?_

  
  


G.McHotty : 

_I do._

_It's a favorite hobby of mine._

_See anything you like?_

_In particular._

  
  


Dr.FeelGood : 

_…._

_You holding a crop with leather gloves, while your boot is resting against a padded bench._

  
  


G.McHotty : 

_That's a good one._

_Do you have any experience in BDSM?_

  
  


Dr.FeelGood : 

_No._

_I've been too busy with my work and studies to ever experiment._

  
  


G.McHotty : 

_I can sympathize._

_My job lets me make my own hours so I have more freedom to experiment._

_You have any interest in giving it a try?_

  
  


Dr.FeelGood : 

_Yes, but I am not sure where to start._

_I've been looking into it, and found some excellent articles though._

  
  


G.McHotty : 

_Your best bet to understand it would probably be hands on. Preferably with someone well versed in the practice. It's not something that can be easily understood and there can be some misconceptions about it with the wrong people._

_It's more of a feeling sort of thing._

_You have any friends in the lifestyle?_

  
  


Dr.FeelGood : 

_Not that I know of, but I don't really make it a habit of asking after my coworkers' sex lives._

  
  


G.McHotty : 

_Haha._

_I suppose not. Probably a fast track to being reported to HR._

_If you want, I could give you a lesson or two._

  
  
Geoffrey stretched out in his bed, tapping away at his phone as he continued to converse with this _Dr.FeelGood_ fella. He sounded sincere about his interests and Geoffrey would be lying if he said he wasn't the slightest bit curious about him at all. The man looked attractive from what little he had seen already, and he appeared to be taking the time to explore a world he wasn't entirely familiar with. He was downright fascinated by what Geoffrey had seen, as they continued to talk late into the night. They traded links, Geoffrey skimmed over what kind of content the good doctor was reading and passed on his thoughts about each, accompanying it with a word of warning. That _seeing_ and _doing_ were two completely different experiences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vukasin's username is a play on the fact Vincent likes to call him Robin Hood.
> 
> So instead of being the Prince of Thieves, it's the Prince of Fuck These.
> 
> Vincent's username Mr. Quickshot is both a reference to his shooting skills and Vuka making fun of his sexual endurance. (Vincent says he isn't a quick shot, Vuka's just being mean.)
> 
> Also, O'Connor's place is called The Drunken Rat Pub, named after Francach.


	3. Chapter 3

Jonathan was nervous, which was a preposterous statement considering everything he's been through and done. Yet, meeting a perfect stranger for _sex_ of all things was as ridiculous as it sounded. He had tried to talk himself out of it twice now, and Clarence had actively talked him back into it with positive encouragement.

"This is how people get murdered." Jonathan countered.

"Jonny, if it makes you feel better, I've asked around a bit. This G.McHotty person sounds pretty legit."

"You've _asked around?"_ Jonathan nearly blurted, the growing mortification barely concealed.

"Yeah, I made an account and poked around. He's got a reputation, a good one at that." Clarence assured. "See!" He turned his phone around for Jonathan to see. His profile picture was of Jonathan's pet house plant Lisa. It was a very pleasant picture, and his username was the _Im-plant._

He had to the admit, Clarence's sense of humor made him chuckle a little. It was very clever. But that didn't prove that Jonathan should continue to meet up with this man. The review boards and forums chat groups on the other hand, did. He had plenty of positive reviews with only a handful of bad ones, mostly complaining that he was too stern and by the book for their tastes, and another was nitpicking his roughness. 

Even now, as he stood in the elevator that took him up to the third floor where the man's studio apartment awaited him, he was contemplating turning around and leaving. He could just say something came up with work and apologize. There was a thousand and one reasons he could come up with that would dissuade him from going through with this. And yet, he still found himself knocking on G.McHotty's door. They had planned for this meeting for the last two weeks. Jonathan had rearranged his schedule to free up an entire weekend so he could prepare and then recover from whatever aftermath there was. He'd read over dozens of articles, scrolled through BDSM chat forums and talked with McHotty extensively about the whole situation. He had been incredibly kind and patient with him through the whole process, and friendlier than Jonathan had expected when this whole thing began.

This could be good for him. He did need to get out more and socialize after all. It wasn't healthy to be so work obsessed all the time and he couldn't exactly call Clarence a suitable replacement for social stimulation when he spent a majority of his time playing video games and reading about alien conspiracy theories.

He resolved to accept the choice he made, and straightened up, prepared to meet this mysterious G.McHotty face to face.

He heard the lock on the door shift and it parted to expose the man behind the mystery all this time.

Jonathan made a huge mistake.

The mysterious man before him was none other than Geoffrey McCullum, frequent visitor and local problem child, at least as far as the ER was concerned. Jonathan was shocked, there was no other way around it, and by the taken aback and confused expression on McCullum's face, he was just as flabbergasted by the reveal.

"I'm sorry." Jonathan spoke up first, already taking a step back as the heat of humiliation began to burn across his face. "I believe I may have made a mistake." He quickly turned away and headed back to the lift, keeping his head down as he pressed the button. His impatience with it was wearing at his nerves when he heard footsteps approaching from behind.

He was so stupid to listen to Clarence and he regretted ever allowing him to place that ridiculous app on his phone. He would delete it the moment he got out of this godforsaken building. 

"Reid." He felt a gentle hand rest on his shoulder to pull at his attention. He stiffened under McCullum's touch, causing the man to retract it and give him space. "Let's talk."

"I believe we've talked enough, Mr. McCullum." He tried to sound professional but his anger at himself started to leak into his voice. The lift finally opened and he stepped inside. McCullum had other ideas as he blocked the doors from closing.

"Come on." His voice softened in a way that couldn't compare to the growly and unapproachable man that often found himself in Jonathan's ER. He could hardly imagine they were the same person. "You're obviously uncomfortable and I understand that. I'd really hate for your first introduction to this lifestyle to be colored by your perception of me."

"You're a patient."

"You're not currently treating me and you're no longer on the clock. As far as I can see it, I'm working and offering you a service in a private and safe space. You're my client." He explained, tipping his head with an expectant look in his blue eyes.

Jonathan bit the inside of his lip anxiously and wrung his hands together. It made sense, which wasn't what he _wanted_ at all. He wanted to leave and call it quits. But his curiosity still demanded it be sated and McCullum was.....well, this was possibly the most they've spoken in the shortest amount of time that didn't involve Jonathan practically pulling words from him like teeth.

"We don't have to do anything at all. Just talk." He assured, his hands held out in a sincere gesture. "I can order us some food even. Call it a group study session or whatever it is you do in medical school."

"This is sex we're talking about McCullum. That does not compare to a clinical capacity."

"Why shouldn't it? Sex is an intimate understanding and knowledge of the human body and mind. BDSM masters this further." He offered a small smile towards Jonathan when the doctor appeared to be listening, his pale blue-gray eyes meeting McCullum's with that glimmer of interest. "BDSM doesn't even have to be sexual. It can be very therapeutic." He cocked a brow, stepping aside from the doors of the lift having said his peace.

Jonathan conceded against his better judgement and quietly vacated the lift, stepping after him. _Damn_ _it._ He was certainly never going to let Clarence hear the end of this. "How so?"

McCullum smiled, a roguish and charming expression of increasing approval. "Let me order some food and we can talk more." He cocked his head towards the open door and lured Jonathan in to follow. He shrugged off his coat once he was inside and hung it on the rack by the door.

The apartment wasn't what Jonathan had anticipated. It was clean and organized, with an open layout that allowed a clear view of every corner. It looked like a regular apartment, with a kitchen and a living room, rich leather sofas with plush cushions and a soft throw rug in earthy tones. Everything was warm or dark from the onyx counter tops to the dark wood floors to the maroon curtains and carpet, and the mocha brown leather. On the far side of the apartment was a privacy curtain that was drawn halfway across on both sides with only the briefest glimpse of a bed peeking through. It looked luxurious but in an unusual way he couldn't quite place without further inspection.

"Do you live here?" Jonathan asked, glancing over his shoulder to find Geoffrey.

He found him in the kitchen, returning to Jonathan's side with a bottle of water he brought from the fridge. Now that he had the opportunity to actually take in the Irishman's appearance through the initial shock, he noticed he wore a pair of black jeans that fit snug to his hips and accentuated his posterior. An attractive and rather flattering navy blue sweater was a tight fit over his shoulders and loosened around the hips, the sleeves were rolled up to draw the eye towards his strong forearms. A small red woven bracelet was tied around his right wrist, finishing the look off with a pair of polished combat boots that gently tapped the floor as he swaggered towards him.

Jonathan could see now, where all the pieces fit together, slotting the images from the gallery to mentally overlap and further the secrets beneath the layers. He cursed his thoughts for running away with him, shaking them free as he gratefully accepted the bottle of water, if not for thirst, it would give his hands something to fiddle with.

"No, I use this place for my hobby." He glanced around fondly. "It probably don't look like much." His voice trailed.

"It's tasteful. I guess I was expecting...more bars?" Jonathan laughed dryly. "I thought a sex dungeon would be more-"

"Medieval?" McCullum chuckled in genuine amusement. "You'd be surprised. A lot of beginners have shared your thoughts."

"Do you do this often then?" Jonathan turned to face McCullum as he shrugged and waved him towards the couches to relax and sit down.

"I don't indulge in a lot of partners, if that's what you're concerned about. I practice safe sex, so don't worry." 

Jonathan looked startled, lips parted to apologize at the misunderstanding when McCullum laughed him off and smiled. "I know what you mean, Reid. Don't worry." He winked. Jonathan ignored the flustered heat that spread across his face momentarily.

"My last submissive ended their contract when they found a romantic partner. I usually only take one sub at a time, but it's been a while since I've had a partner to work with. Typically I just help other Doms with training beginners or I visit clubs for the entertainment."

"Clubs?" Jonathan adjusted in his seat so he was facing McCullum better, offering the utmost attention to his every word.

"Yeah, there are private clubs out there that practice this lifestyle." He informed. "Are you hungry by the way? I did promise to order food and I'd rather do it now before we get into the thick of it."

"Oh, um- well, certainly. I don't mind." To say Jonathan was nervous was an understatement. He just hoped this night would be less embarrassing as time went on. If not, then he could say he gave it his best college try and call it quits, then never see McCullum again outside of a professional capacity. At least he hoped.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Poodle and Bunny Butt for answering my questions and humoring my curiosity. You were a big help for this chapter!

They ordered pizza. Geoffrey turned on some music to play from the surround sound speakers carefully concealed and installed around the studio. A quiet background noise from an instrumental station that does various popular songs. A little something to help his partners relax or to set the mood for whatever scene they were playing out. For now, it was to help ease Reid’s nerves. The doctor looked like he was about to crawl out of his skin despite his best efforts to appear calm.

He gathered up a pen and pad of paper, returning to the couch to lay them on the coffee table before Reid. He had directed the doctor to write out a list of questions he may have before they even begin so he doesn’t forget later on. He had his own pen and paper set in his lap and wrote up a quick list of important points to address and notes to jot down involving Reid’s personal tastes and interests.

Geoffrey hadn’t planned on doing much for their first time together. Mostly just conversation like this. It felt more important now considering the fact he had past experiences with Reid to contend with. He imagined the doctor didn’t have the best impression of him, and that was largely Geoffrey’s fault. He normally wasn’t such a prick but bar fights got his blood going and he never expected that the very same doctor who treated him countless times would be on the other end of his services.

Geoffrey got up when the bell rang for delivery. He set his pad of paper aside and got up to retrieve it, setting the pizza on the kitchen counter as he rummaged through the cabinets for paper plates. He didn’t use his studio for much else so the cupboards were pretty bare. He had paper and plastic kitchenware, the fridge was usually stocked with bottled water and Gatorade, and the freezer had cold packs. 

“How’s that list coming?” Geoffrey called as he set the paper plates out on the counter with a handful of napkins. He glanced over and caught Jonathan humming softly along to the music from his speakers, some jazz number played that Geoffrey couldn’t recognize off the bat but it appeared to be doing it’s magic on the man’s nerves.

“I believe I’m finished.” He stood up, bringing the notepad and his bottle of water with him as Geoffrey beckoned the man over to eat. Jonathan climbed up onto the bar stool by the counter and settled into his spot as Geoffrey shoved the plate towards him. He stopped to roll his sleeves neatly up to his elbows before he started to eat. Geoffrey leaned his hip against the counter while he ate, balancing the plate in hand as he glimpsed over the list. It was extensive and each question was meticulously written out. He definitely put a lot more thought into them than past subs Geoffrey has had.

It felt relatively fitting for the doctor.

Geoffrey waited until Reid was most of the way through his first slice of pizza before starting. Now that things felt more like a casual conversation over dinner, and less like some awkward appointment. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and began.

“So, for starters, what do you want to get out of this lifestyle?” He popped the cap and took a few quick swigs of water, eyes focused on the doctor while he wiped his mouth with a napkin and considered the question.

“What do you mean?” Jonathan finally asked after a moment’s pause.

Geoffrey resumed his post against the counter, hands cradling the bottle and rolling the pad of his thumb back and forth against the ridges of the cap. “Some people do this for the sex and only the sex. They don’t care why, where or who they end up with.” He gestured dismissively. “Whether that’s healthy varies from person to person. Others partake to find a meaningful and intimate relationship with another person, that is vastly different from any other personal or romantic relationship outside of the lifestyle. And then there are those that do it for the physical benefits. The practice can be therapeutic, handling stress, improving confidence, exploring identity and sexuality or overcoming traumas in their past.”

“To each their own.” Geoffrey added. “So what is yours?”

Jonathan took a moment to think about it, actually thinking deeply about Geoffrey's words. He propped his jaw up on his palm, his thumb drawing a thoughtful line along his chin. The curve of his hand hiding his mouth from view. Geoffrey reached for a second slice of pizza while the doctor took his time. He was just taking a bite of cheese that had attempted to escape by oozing in a long strand, when Jonathan finally spoke up. “Call it curiosity.”

“Curiosity?”

Jonathan nodded and reached for another slice. “If I’m being honest, I thought this whole thing was ridiculous when my roommate recommended it. But now that I’ve taken the time to look into what exactly all this is, I’m fascinated. There’s this _allure_ that I can’t describe and I would very much like to learn more.” He chuckled to himself. “It’s thrilling and a little bit scandalous.”

Geoffrey chuckled and reached for a napkin to wipe the sauce from his mouth. “That doesn’t surprise me.” He let the smallest smile slip through. “Curiosity. I guess I could work with that. You’ve only seen a drop from a vast ocean so far. Hope you’re ready to get a little wet.”

Jonathan snorted at the comment, hiding his face behind his hand as he nearly choked on his pizza. He shook his head, stifled laughter breaking through. Geoffrey raised a brow at the doctor before it dawned on him. “If that makes you snicker, you’re gonna be busting a rib later on.”

“Apologies.” Jonathan smiled, a sincere expression that felt contagious. Geoffrey let a smile crack on his own face but he hid it behind the rim of his water bottle.

“Alright. Limits. What are you not comfortable with? What is off the table?” Geoffrey adjusted his notepad so he could write down Jonathan’s response.

“I suppose anything that leaves marks.” He took another bite of his pizza while Geoffrey started writing. “Specifically around my hands and neck.” He held his wrists up, palms facing up. Geoffrey understood. Couldn’t have a doctor showing up to work looking like he’s been hogtied the whole weekend. “I guess things that cause lingering pain or discomfort, like spanking?” He was racking his brain. “I don’t mind pain but it could be a fatal distraction at work.”

“Understandable. So we’ll leave the crops and ropes out. Is padded bondage something you’re interested in? It doesn’t leave marks behind.” Geoffrey’s pen paused in the middle of a sentence, his eyes flickered up to see Jonathan nod. “Anything else?”

“I’m not entirely certain.”

“We can figure it out as we go. This is just for a starting point. We can make changes at any time later on if you’re comfortable with it.”

“Of course.” Jonathan nodded, his brows furrowed in thought. “Oh! Bodily fluids.” He wrinkled his nose up. “I’m covered in enough of that at work.”

“That’s fine. That’s a hard limit for me as well.” Geoffrey explained. “So we won’t have a problem there.”

“And anything medical related.” Jonathan added. “The last thing I need is to associate my job with sex.”

Geoffrey had to snicker at that, but he quickly schooled his expression away from the smile that danced on his lips. His thoughts may have strayed a bit to the humor of that.

“And I’m afraid I’ll be too preoccupied with nitpicking the experience instead of enjoying it even if I did give it a try.” The words were teasing, as Jonathan took another bite of his pizza.

“Noted.” Geoffrey chuckled. “Alright. Anything else you can think of right now?”

“Nothing public? I was told that was a thing.” Jonathan looked puzzled.

“I can definitely assure you there will be none of that. My sessions stay completely private and nothing leaves this room.” Geoffrey assured. Jonathan was relieved to hear that, his shoulders relaxed a bit as he nodded, finishing up his pizza and wiped his hands and face with the crinkled napkin.

“If that’s everything, we can move on.”

“Certainly.”

“Safe words. There are different types of safewords. There are the verbal ones, like saying _Banana_ or _Grape Fruit_ or something like that. Then there are physical ones, which involve a sub ringing a bell, tapping a shoulder or letting go of a ball. Just to name a few.” Geoffrey tapped his pen against the notepad as he listed each off. “Physical safewords vary depending on the play type and the scene. My partners usually pick a single verbal safeword and stick with it for every session. Do you have a safeword in mind?”

“Leeches.”

It came suddenly, and honestly caught Geoffrey off guard. He raised an inquisitive brow and snickered a little. The disbelief must have been written across his face as Jonathan explained. “I was reading an article about the historical medicinal uses of leeches this morning and it was the first obscur unrelated thing that came to mind.”

“Fair enough. Leeches it is. Mine is Priwen.” He wrote it down for future reference, but that was one he was certain wouldn’t be forgotten easily. Jonathan was proving to be a very interesting sub. "Let's see, we've talked about safewords, limits and boundaries." He tapped his pen against the notepad and glanced over which of his bullet points he wanted to address next.

"There's contracts which I'll hit on later. I need my laptop for that." He mumbled to himself. "I guess we can go over drops and aftercare next."

"Drops?"

"Drops are crashes. Imagine having a sugar rush then once it's over, you crash hard. Only it's more of an emotional crash." He scratched at his jaw as he tried to explain this in a way that would make sense to a beginner. "There are two types of drops. Sub Drops, which is what the submissive experiences, and Dom or Top drops, which is what the Dominant experiences. These can be various negative feelings or emotions related to a scene or situation."

"I can send you some articles later that explain the science behind it." Geoffrey offered.

"I'd appreciate it." Jonathan smiled as Geoffrey jotted down a reminder in the corner of his notepad so he wouldn't forget and continued on.

"So, these drops can happen after intense scenes or sessions and play into one of the more important aspects of BDSM. The aftercare." Geoffrey went on to explain the different kinds of aftercare that a person could employ, and it varies to each person's tastes and comforts. Some people were cuddlers and needed physical contact to help them adjust to the rush and drop after a scene. Some enjoyed casual interactions, watching a favorite movie and eating snacks. Some liked routine, such as baths or self grooming. And there were some people that just preferred to be left alone and have their space. There was nothing wrong with that.

"What kind of aftercare do you perform for yourself as a Dom?" Jonathan was genuinely curious, his head tilted as he cradled his jaw in his palm. He leaned into the counter. His plate set aside out of the way with the notepad sitting in front, prepared to take important notes though Geoffrey hadn't seen him touch it since they started eating. He still soaked up information like a sponge, drinking in every detail with the utmost attention focused on Geoffrey. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't flattered by it. Usually his past subs fidget or get easily distracted during long conversations like these. It wasn't the most invigorating or intriguing topic when they could be _doing_ it instead of hearing about it.

"I usually prefer to be left alone. A long hot shower and a cold beer at the end of the day is my routine." He shrugged. "I have my subs check in a couple days later. We meet up and talk about the session, the good and the bad, then make the necessary corrections for a better experience the next time around."

He explained how both parties required aftercare to some extent and how care changed depending on the intensity of the scene. And even if a scene is ended abruptly by safewording, it still requires extensive care. Geoffrey further explained that both Doms and Subs can safeword a scene and the fact it was completely okay to safeword a scene that had been previously approved of as being within the limits. "Sometimes you have those days where you just can't get in the headspace. There's no shame in that. Everyone has their bad days." He added.

They spent the rest of the night going over additional safety rules, talking about protection, cleaning routines and discussing disease screenings. Geoffrey had his already prepared. He had it done during the week in preparation of this meeting. It shouldn't have surprised him that Jonathan had done the same and had a copy of it saved to his phone. It made everything a hell of a lot easier in the end.

By the end of the night, Jonathan appeared to be feeling far more confident than when he arrived, and he had a plethora of questions he asked in quick succession. Occasionally he would write down notes, some of it was information Geoffrey told him, some of it was the names of sites to look up or choice words to investigate further that caught his interest. They did eventually migrate back to the couch where Geoffrey pulled out his laptop and they went over a baseline contract that he had written up for all of his partners and it was as simple as _fill in the blanks_ and then both men signed and dated it.

Geoffrey showed the doctor around the studio and explained that they would start at a very basic level to test the waters a bit. From the looks of it, the doctor was excited and eager for their next session. He was certainly more lively now which Geoffrey was relieved about. Whatever bias that may have been painted in his mind regarding the Dom's personality had been swept away by the new shiny distraction.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments and kudos so far. I've been bouncing between working on this, the Bat Reid series and Captivation series so updates cycle around.
> 
> I'm also having a lot of fun writing Clarence's scenes. He keeps Jonny on his toes.

“Jonny, what about this?’ Clarence’s voice rang out from further down the aisle. Jonathan quietly pushed the trolley along and let out a suffering sigh as he endured the childish energy of his friend. Clarence was like trying to wrangle a five year old in and keep him from taking everything off the shelves that even mildly caught his interest. It wasn’t a problem exactly, but Jonathan had dealt with the habit since their early years in grade school and it never ceased to tire him out.

In high school, he humored him, but they were no longer troublesome youths who could survive on junk food and microwave noodle cups. Nor were they soldiers living on MRE’s because their other option came in the form of bland and tasteless. Or in Clarence’s case, too many spices to make it through a night without spending half of it in the latrine.

Jonathan stopped the trolley and leaned against the handlebar, one foot lifted to rest on the bar between the wheels while he rolled it idly back and forth in little spurts of motion. Clarence had two family sized bags of chips, one of which was corn chips. Jonathan supposed he could make several types of meals using them if they were in the mood for Mexican, and it would go along well with the container of hummus he picked up while rolling through produce. The other, which was cheesy, he could already imagine Clarence devouring the whole thing in one mindless sitting on the couch while the television played.

With a heavy sigh, he gave into the hopeful look from his friend and pushed the trolley forward. “Put them in.” Clarence carefully dropped them into the base of the cart amidst the fruits and vegetables Jonathan picked up when they cut through the produce section, and the fresh breads from the bakery. And a box of donuts that Clarence puppy dogged his way into. “We need more substantial groceries Clarence.” He reminded. “What sounds good?”

“Pizza?” 

Jonathan shook his head with a heavy sigh, shoving the trolley forward forcing Clarence to pick up the pace to keep up.

“We could make one from scratch.” Jonathan volunteered. “That could be for dinner tonight.”

“We could just buy a frozen one.”

“We can’t live on junk food, Clarence. That’s not good for you.” Jonathan chided as he turned the trolley into the next aisle filled with cereal and breakfast foods.

“I don’t know, Jonny. It tastes pretty good to me.” Clarence chuckled when Jonathan leveled an unamused scowl in his direction. “Fine. How about chicken?”

Jonathan nodded. “I could pick up a couple breasts.” He scanned the shelves for the sales and stopped before a half empty display. “Pick what you want.” Jonathan found he would regret those words as Clarence targeted the sugariest cereal the aisle had to offer. He felt like this was his punishment for some bizarre reason. The universe was making him regret whatever poor decisions he made that led to this. He rolled his eyes and picked up a box of cereal for himself, adding it to the growing pile of groceries. “Remind me that we need milk.”

“And bagels.”

“And bagels.” Jonathan agreed.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Grocery shopping was an oddly exhausting experience that Jonathan failed to relish. He didn't understand the appeal that many people have to shopping in general, be it for clothes or food or whatever other frivolous interests but maybe that was a _him_ thing. Books on the other hand, he could understand and spending his free time with a good book in hand and a hot cup of tea was his favorite pastime. Often getting lost in bookstores as he’d peruse the shelves with a critical eye. He spent many rainy days in his youth, sprawled across the couch in his childhood home, a book in hand while his mother painted some vibrant scenery or another that inspired her. Mary would be listening to music in the next room, the distant melody mingling with the patter of raindrops on the roof. Occasionally her voice would reach them both as she sang to herself sweetly.

The nostalgic memories brought with it the reminder that the weather was just as cold and dreary. It had been sunny and pleasant for the last few days, and he'd go so far as to call it hot when the sun reached its highest point. He had grown fond of leaving the windows open, allowing fresh air to clear out the staleness that lingered from winter's oppressive presence. He had even indulged in some early Spring cleaning and forced Clarence to help him rearrange all of the furniture in the house while he scrubbed the floors and dusted every surface.

Clarence spent half of that time blasting music from the speakers of his gaming console and sliding around in his socks while singing. Jonathan couldn't exactly get mad about it since he had joined in as they belted out _Mr. Blue Sky_ with as much gusto as would warrant such an iconic song. Which led to a fierce and questionably done duet of _Don't Stop Believing_ that had them using the mop handles as impromptu microphones.

The rainy weather put a damper on Jonathan's enthusiasm and left him pleasantly content as he stretched out in the shaded comfort of his bed. The blankets partially covered his body in a haphazard throw. He had changed into a black pair of comfortable jogging sweats and a dark short sleeve shirt and stretched his arms behind his head with his pillows tucked under him. The house was quiet as Clarence passed out on the couch as per usual for this time of day.

There was a perfectly good guest bedroom for the other man to use, but he had shared his preference for the couch in the early days when he moved in. Jonathan later found out accidentally from Venus that Clarence refused to sleep in bed with her when he returned from Afghanistan. He had taken up a near permanent spot on their living room couch. He wasn't comfortable explaining why when she approached him on the subject but Jonathan understood and respected his decision. The guest bedroom was mostly for Clarence's belongings to be stored at this point.

He was too tired to pursue any further tasks in his to-do list around the house and decided to let Clarence sleep for a bit. In the meantime he dealt with his restless thoughts the easiest way he knew how. By giving them something new to chew on. He had a substantial amount of homework to research and read up on. Geoffrey had sent him a couple dozen articles and a few basic _how to_ videos that explain different pieces of equipment that Jonathan had heard of or seen momentary glimpses of and was interested in knowing what they do. He also had a print out list of kinks that Geoffrey had given him to explore at his own leisure. Each kink on the page had a small square next to it. He put an X in the ones he didn't want anything to do with, a check mark on the ones he wanted to look into further or try out, and a line through the _maybes_.

He didn't need it right away since they had already discussed what the first starter sessions would consist of. Geoffrey wanted to get to know Jonathan better and familiarize himself with his body language and his body in general. Until they were both comfortable with each other, there would be no sexual encounters.

In the meantime, Jonathan was reading up on the chemical reactions behind _drops_ and _spaces_. As well as looking at a few toys for his own personal curiosity and self-exploration. Apparently it was one thing to masturbate, it was another thing entirely to use a toy, as Geoffrey had described in rushed detail how different ones lead to different experiences. He gave Jonathan a couple recommendations that were reliable and good for beginners.

  
  


* * *

  
  


"Hey Doc!" Mr. Bonner blurted upon Jonathan's entrance into the hospital room. He wasn't surprised at all to find the younger man perched like a high school teenager on the bed, his boots sat neatly on the floor while he sat cross legged and comfortable as if they were in his bedroom and not a hospital.

He had a broad grin on his face that almost disguised the large stain of blood that seeped down the front of what used to be a white t-shirt. It was now covered in blood. Fresh blood by the looks of it and the wadded up tissues curled into his grasp. His curly dark hair was a mess, windswept and damp from the sprinkle of rain that spit out in spurts from the blanket of clouds that loomed ominously in the sky all evening. His cheeks were a cherry red, a similar discoloration along his chest and around his neck in dark patches and splotches, disrupting the natural olive shade of his skin tone. A large dark bruise was surfacing along the side of his face, pooled mostly along his jaw and cheek.

He was not alone, which wasn't unusual for his type of mischief. Mr. Bonner had a habit of coming in with a Serbian man accompanying him. The nurses assumed he didn't speak English at all, and a few of the staff had mistaken him for Mr. Bonner's cousin or possible half sibling. They were neither of these things but still remained inseparable for the most part. Mr. Babic had a black jacket with the hood pulled up over his head, but that didn't stop his dark hair from ending up just as damp as Mr. Bonner's. He was stretched out in one of the hard back plastic chairs, his legs crossed at the ankles as he observed the pair with unnerving aqua eyes. Were it not for the fact Jonathan was accustomed to Mr. Babic's "grumpy" demeanor, he may have been mildly intimidated by his glare.

"What has happened now, Mr. Bonner?" Jonathan implored with concern. He gestured towards the blood stains down the front of his shirt and that grin that _screamed_ trouble.

"I had a spill at work."

"You did not spill. You fainted." Mr. Babic corrected. "And hit face on cooler."

"In my defense, I was bleeding before I hit the cooler." He countered, giving Babic a stern look in return.

"I'm going to assume that means your symptoms are coming back." Jonathan interrupted. He had already seen Mr. Bonner's chart and the vitals Nurse Hawkin's collected when they came in. His blood pressure and heart rate were higher than were safe.

"I got bled a week ago." He lifted his arm as if to prove a point. There was subtle bruising along his forearm from where he had tried to catch himself on the way down and white scrape marks against his elbow.

"Have you been sticking to your diet?"

"Yes." Bonner said just as Babic stated. "No."

Jonathan turned to address Mr. Babic thoughtfully. "What has he been straying on?"

"Too many sweets. Too much junk food."

"Lies and slander!" Bonner huffed. "I only cheat a little. It's been a stressful week."

Jonathan raised a brow at that. 

"Doc, you can't expect me to cut out sweets indefinitely."

"Not indefinitely, but in moderation Mr. Bonner." Jonathan explained. "You can have a regular balanced diet with the occasional cheat, without endangering your health."

"Easier said than done." Bonner sighed and laid back in the bed, the pillows tucked and reclined against his back as he stretched his legs out. "So what now?"

"Have you been keeping to your medication?"

"Yeah, I'm almost out." Bonner brushed his hand through his hair and sighed. "I've been getting nosebleeds and headaches more frequently lately."

"We may need to adjust your prescription again." Jonathan approached a computer that was set up in the corner of the room. It was still logged into Mr. Bonner's file, allowing Jonathan to make the appropriate notes with a few quick clicks of a mouse. His fingers danced across the keyboard as he spoke up. "I'll have the nurse draw your blood and have it analyzed. We'll adjust your prescription accordingly and if your symptoms persist." Jonathan's voice trailed for a moment. 

"We'll look into other treatment options. I know, I know." Bonner finished, watching Jonathan work at the computer.

"Mind if I check you over? I'm concerned about where you hit your head." Jonathan offered.

"Only if I get a piece of candy for it." Bonner teased, causing Babic to snort in amusement. 

"You'll have to ask Nurse Branagan very nicely for that. She may allow you a pick of the lollies behind her desk but those are only for well behaved children." Jonathan has had his fair share of encounters with Mr. Bonner. He was one of the few soldiers the doctor had treated both in Afghanistan and back in England. He had been the one to pull the bullet out of the sniper after he and his partner had been ambushed on a rooftop. He was also the one to notice Mr. Bonner's unusual symptoms and later discovered his blood disease.

Babic snorted in amusement. "He is never vell behaved."

"Hey! I can be good. When I want to."

"Vhich is never." Babic reminded, causing Bonner to pout in annoyance. Jonathan cracked a smile at that and shook his head, turning to find a box of gloves from the cabinet so he could better inspect the man's injuries.


	6. Chapter 6

“You can undress when you’re ready.” Geoffrey directed as he stepped towards the bed. Today, they were starting their first session. The privacy curtains were pulled away to expose the bed at the end of the room. There were rails installed along the ceiling that allowed Geoffrey to reveal or hide the different pieces of equipment he owned. In his opinion, it kept things organized and the black curtains added a little something more to the mood. That, and he had past subs get distracted or feel anxious when other pieces of equipment were out where they could see them. In this way, he had an additional level of control to every scene.

For now, he didn’t have to worry about his current sub being distracted. The doctor always gave him the utmost attention and was well disciplined enough to focus on the task at hand. Even now. Geoffrey glanced away to give him privacy while he checked over his equipment one last time and ran through his mental checklist to ensure he wasn’t missing anything.

Meanwhile, Jonathan turned around to start unbuttoning his shirt, sliding it down over his shoulders as the fabric pooled into his grasp. He carefully folded it up, back exposed to the cooler air of the room. Geoffrey peeked over to check on him and noticed the pale patches of old scars that ripped across Jonathan's back. The brunt of it dug into his left shoulder and started to curl up the nape of his neck.

"Mind if I ask about the scars?" It wasn't necessarily a requirement but Geoffrey wanted to know what he was working with and if there were any hot spots to avoid touching. They looked old, some were raised in patches, others smoothed out and almost unnoticed. Some were outlined in darker shades of damaged tissue. Overall, it looked gnarly.

"I don't mind at all." Jonathan spoke casually as he flexed his shoulders, allowing Geoffrey to get a better look. "My best friend Clarence, was driving us home after holiday break, senior year." He turned around to face Geoffrey with a small reassuring smile.

"A farmer's sheep escaped their paddock and ran into the road. Clarence panicked and swerved. He ended up rolling his Volkswagen." Jonathan scratched at his jaw thoughtfully. "I don't remember much about the crash. My seat was busted in half and the door was crushed into my side. Clarence dragged me out through the windshield and ran to the nearest house to call for help."

"That sounds rough." Geoffrey could imagine how scared this Clarence fella must have been. Those scars looked pretty bad all healed up, fresh from an accident it must have looked like he killed his friend. "You don't remember anything at all?"

"Just that it hurt and there were a lot of sheep." Jonathan stated bluntly. "Clarence had a couple broken ribs but he still dragged me to safety. I owe him a lot for that."

Geoffrey could sympathize. "Are there any spots that you don't like being touched at all?" He asked as he approached the bed. The dark red of the fabric was broken up with subtle black accents. His tools for the evening were already picked out and set up on the bedside table, easily within reach while he worked. "Anywhere that hurts?"

"Not really. I can't feel much at all where the scar tissue is." Jonathan informed nonchalantly as he approached the bed. Geoffrey gestured for him to get comfortable. "Is there any specific position you'd like me?"

"Whatever is most comfortable for you." Geoffrey added. "I'm adaptable."

Jonathan settled onto the edge and then slid the rest of the way over so he was comfortably resting but still within easy reach of Geoffrey's hands. "Remember your safeword?"

"Leeches." He answered easily as Geoffrey handed him a simple black silk blindfold to put on. Their goal for today was to play with sensation and relax muscles. Geoffrey would utilize this time to get more familiar with Jonathan's body while simultaneously helping ease the tension spurred by stress and any anxiety the doctor was feeling.

"Good." Geoffrey stepped aside, inspecting the steady rise and fall of the doctor's chest as he settled. His shoulders relaxed against the softness of the mattress, his head sinking back into the pillows as he allowed tension to unravel from his back. A deep breath drawn, held then released, easing him back until he was ready. When Geoffrey returned by his side, he spoke again. "Stay completely still."

The direction was softer now, almost too quiet, each syllable slipping between the light melody that played from the speakers. Unlike the usual station that played at random, Geoffrey set it to a chosen playlist of light instrumental music. Each song had a beat that roughly matched the resting pace of the human heart. He found it gave his partners something to sync with during moments like these. After a few minutes, he made his first move. 

He was careful not to telegraph any other movements, allowing Jonathan to focus on the music and his voice. His chosen tool for the moment was the ever humble feather, rigid in the quill with a rounded tip for more precise stimulation against the skin. It was still incredibly soft to the touch and enticing to the senses. Geoffrey let it hover over Jonathan's bare chest only moving it just enough to stir the air against his skin when it moved. He lingered over that spot for a few more seconds before placing the very tip ever so lightly against his sternum.

His wrist moved as if he were painting a picture across Jonathan's skin. A warm canvas for his imaginary masterpiece. The tapestry of his own making as he trailed the edge along his breast bone before lifting it. He watched as Jonathan's breath caught in his chest, lips parted ever so slightly with the tiniest gasp. He let the feather hover a moment as he picked his next target, brushing along the curve of muscle around his right pectoral, dancing daintily around his nipple as he switched to the other pec, repeating the same sensation before sweeping the curve of the feather gently over the flat of his belly. His stomach dipped as he exhaled, goosebumps peppered his arms as a shiver ran through him.

Geoffrey continued his delicate ministrations, every motion had purpose, every touch was intended. As it danced along the curve of his shoulders, outlined the hollow of his collarbones and traveled the dip along his throat. The tip of the feather explored the edge of his jaw, drawing along the dark line of his beard. He withdrew the feather and set it back on the table, returning his attention towards Jonathan. The tightness in his jaw had relaxed and his fingers unfurled, lying flat against the blanket now.

He was careful not to touch too much at once, with just the tips of his fingers, he turned Jonathan's arms over so the soft pale skin on the inside was facing up. Geoffrey started at the crook of his elbow and using only his fingers, he traced the pad of his index finger along the dark blue veins just below the surface. The faint shadows that greeted him were a welcome guide down to Jonathan's wrist where he traced a figure eight on the inside. It was slow and measured, with only the barest of touch as his fingers moved down to trace the life lines in Jonathan's palm. 

He repeated the same routine with his other arm as well. Trailing over the curve of his fingers and outlining the sensitive webbing between his thumb and forefinger, he drew imaginary caricatures on the backs of his hand and between his knuckles. 

It was easy to see the man that was the center of those photographs now. Being this close to the doctor as his hands trailed over his body, inciting tingling sensations throughout his limbs and across the most sensitive touch starved nerves. The shadows cast over Jonathan only accentuated his better attributes, adding depth to muscle and casting shades to the warm sun kissed glow of healthy skin. The pink flush that dusted his cheeks and flushed his breast were a charming addition.

The doctor was classically handsome and landed in the category that typically ran along the lines of _untouchable_ as far as Geoffrey was concerned. All his visits to the ER only added to his growing interest in a man he assumed wouldn't give a second glance his way outside of a professional setting. And yet, here he was, building a bond with the very same man. It was funny how the universe's sense of humor always ran along the lines of bizarrely questionable.

"How you doing Jonathan?" Geoffrey asked as he stepped away from the bed, breaking physical contact as he inspected his sub. There was a delay in his answer, making Geoffrey wonder if he had fallen asleep. But it eventually came, like a rush of air as he surfaced slowly.

"I'm good." Jonathan assured.

"Do you want to keep going?"

"Yes."

"Alright." Geoffrey nodded, a smile cracked at the corner of his lips as he continued. "The next part will be focused on your back if you're alright with that. Could you roll over onto your stomach?"

Jonathan nodded, answering Geoffrey with obedience as he made himself comfortable. He folded his arms under the pillow so it supported his head and then relaxed his shoulders. Geoffrey waited a couple minutes for his breathing to settle back into that resting pace, matching beat with the music that lulled to him.

"You alright with Peppermint oil?" Geoffrey asked, stooping lower so he could hear Jonathan's response.

"That's fine." He murmured, his head tipped just enough so Geoffrey could see the side of his face.

With the green light on the oil, he applied a modest amount to his palms and gently started to rub it into Jonathan's shoulders. An audible groan left the doctor's chest accompanied by a shiver as the oil spread against his warm skin. Geoffrey smirked as he worked his palms over the curve of his spine and the extensive scar tissue, applying it lightly with his fingertips. "That doesn't hurt, does it?"

"No." Jonathan answered softly, his shoulders sinking beneath Geoffrey's tender touch. His fingers trailed down along his spine, drawing a gasp from the doctor's lips. His back arched ever so slightly before he melted back into the mattress. Geoffrey applied a little more oil to his hands as he worked his way across Jonathan's mid back and down to the small, feeling out every tightly wound muscle and tense bundle along the way. He carefully mapped and memorized each as he finished up, ensuring the oil was properly worked into the skin. He wiped his hands clean with a baby wipe and then dried them with a towel before moving on to the next part.

"You still doing alright?" He asked, earning a pleasant hum from the doctor.

The next piece was a smooth wooden bar that resembled a rolling pin of sorts. Its main function was for massaging out tight muscles, which was primarily what Geoffrey aimed to do. He lightly rolled the pin over Jonathan's unmarred shoulder to test the pressure and his level of comfort. After a few practice rolls, he started to work it up along his sides and over his shoulders, but never directly over the spine. He kept an eye on the doctor's expression and the steady pace of his breathing as he worked. Skilled hands maneuvered the tool into all the right places that refused to release during the previous massage and was rewarded with Jonathan melting like putty beneath his touch.

It went on for several minutes as Geoffrey rolled back over the same spots, growing more comfortable now when he neared the scar tissue. He didn't worry about the pressure so much when Jonathan would sigh contentedly and dip into the motions like a satisfied cat.

When Geoffrey withdrew the roller and took a step back, he inspected his sub with a thoughtful expression. He tilted his head to catch a glimpse of his face. He looked incredibly relaxed, and if Geoffrey was being honest it was a picture perfect view. One that would be very fitting for Jonathan to add to his own gallery. If only his mystery photographer were here. Although some proud part of Geoffrey preened at the fact he was the only one permitted to see the man in this state. The subtle exchange as he breathed slowly, the quiet bliss and peace that fell over him. The bone deep calm that...wait-

Geoffrey swallowed the amused laugh. He was more than certain that Jonathan had fallen asleep on him. It wouldn't be the first time a sub has fallen asleep during a session. If anything, it was a compliment for a job well done. Specifically when the end goal was relaxation. He smirked and indulged in the smug pride before setting the roller back onto the table. He quietly made his way into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge before making the attempt to wake him. 

He crouched down beside the bed. Fingers gingerly tracing Jonathan's shoulders in small circles as he spoke. His voice sounded deeper as the syllables rolled off his tongue. "Jonathan, time to wake up."

It took a few minutes and Geoffrey to say his name a couple more times before he managed to coax the doctor awake. His head buried into the pillow, shoving the blindfold up out of his face. His whole body stretched like a pleased feline as he mumbled. "Apologies. I uh...I didn't mean to…" His cheeks burned with embarrassment as he reached up to take the blindfold the rest of the way off and started to sit up. Geoffrey offered him the bottle of water as he moved to sit beside him on the edge of the bed.

"It's alright. You're not the first sub to doze off during a session. Probably won't be the last time either." Jonathan gratefully accepted the water and set the blindfold on the side table before taking a sip. "How are you feeling?"

"Good." Jonathan admitted, scrubbing a palm over his face with a sluggish smile. "Really good actually. Thank you, Geoffrey."

"You're welcome." He chuckled softly at the sleepy eyed look the doctor directed at him. It was almost childish. The way he pawed at his eyes in an attempt to wake up more. The crooked unguarded smile. It was a sharp contrast against the polite and proper doctor he had encountered one too many times with a stern paternal look and that disappointed shake of his head. Geoffrey found he liked this Jonathan a lot more.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented and left such nice comments last chapter. I really appreciate it!
> 
> Sorry for this update being late. My area was hit with really bad flooding as two very important dams burst and several towns were devastated by the destruction. Me and my family are safe, we managed to be some of the few lucky ones but a friend of mine has been displaced from their home as they wait out the flooding. Please keep them in your thoughts. 
> 
> Updates for the next few days may be late or not at all, as the internet has been terrible (I suspect some of the towers in the area may have been damaged as phone lines amd internet connections have gone down around the county causing communications black outs.)
> 
> So please be patient! And thank you so much for the wonderful comments!

"Mail for you Jonny!" Clarence hollered from the front door. The postman had just left the driveway as the vehicle puttered and rumbled aggressively and headed off down their quiet little suburban street. Jonathan was bent over his workbench in his bedroom tinkering around with an age old pocket watch from his grandfather. It had been his father, Aubrey's before he passed away and it eventually was handed off to him when he was a teenager. He carried it with him through both tours in the war, with a picture of his mother and sister tucked inside as his reminder to come home safely.

Recently, it stopped working and he was determined to get it back into proper order. The doctor was extremely sentimental about the little things, from the pressed flowers he kept that his sister gave him when they were children to the small paintings his mother made for him that were framed around his home. He kept photographs and books with writing, even the old family bible despite lacking any religious affiliations. The handwritten notes and keepsakes from the years were more important to him than the item's religious value.

Clarence wandered up to the open door and rapped his knuckles against the frame to announce his presence.

"One moment." Jonathan acknowledged, peering through the lenses of the magnifying glass he had set up as he used tweezers and tools with surgical precision to set all the tiny pieces back into place. Clarence accepted that as an invitation to snoop and leaned over his shoulder to see what it was he was actually doing.

Jonathan put the backing back on the watch and secured it tightly in place, turning it over carefully in his palm as he checked it. He watched with a satisfied smile as the second hand started to tick slowly by. A quick wind up to the appropriate time and it was good as new.

"Why did you order from a sex shop?" The amused smile spread on Clarence's face with childish glee as if he found some juicy morsel of information. Jonathan didn't share his delight as he stiffened in his seat and turned to scowl at his friend.

"Because I'm doing research." He answered, holding his hand out for his package. 

Clarence deposited the box into his lap and plopped down on the edge of Jonathan's bed, his chin resting in his palm as he stared at him expectantly. Jonathan raised an incredulous brow. "What?"

"I'm curious to see what you bought that relates to _research_."

"What are you? My mother?"

"I feel like she would encourage it if it means she gets more grandchildren." Clarence stated.

Jonathan chuckled. "Well, you aren't wrong there. Between her, Mary and you all climbing on my back about my romantic situation, it's a wonder I manage as well as I do."

"You're not getting any younger, Jonny and being married to your work doesn't excuse a lack of partners. It's not healthy."

"Sounds like the pot calling the kettle black, to me." Jonathan rolled the box around in his lap as he retrieved a box cutter and split the tape open, prying the flaps apart. There were several smaller boxes inside the first one, which contained a bottle of water-based lubricant, a vibrating silicone anal plug and a set of silicone anal beads. Both were relatively small and many of the reviews on the site declared them as perfect for beginners to anal play.

Clarence whistled at the content and gave him a knowing smile. "Well, I'm going to go put the kettle on for a cup of tea. You have fun."

"Wait I'm not-" Jonathan grumbled as Clarence strutted from the room and shut the bedroom door behind himself. He scrubbed his palm over his face and sighed. He'd rather not do this now since he wasn't exactly in the mood, but at the same time, he rarely had an opportunity that he wasn't at risk of being interrupted by Clarence or any others.

He stared at the box for several minutes, tapping his fingers against his workbench in contemplation before giving in.

Preparation was easy enough as he laid out towels over the chosen spot in his bed and rearranged pillows to support his back. He had a hand towel by his side with the bottle of lube next to it. Music played through a bluetooth speaker by his bed that he occasionally used to listen to audio books while he tinkered around. Now he had his workout playlist running, at the very least it would cover up any sounds from himself or from Clarence further in the house.

"I suppose it's not much different than a prostate exam." He rationalized to himself. He had cleaned the anal plug thoroughly and gave it a test run for a few seconds to ensure the battery worked before undressing. The whole thing was awkward to think about. It wasn't like he's never masturbated before. He has done so plenty of times, especially when stress kept him from falling asleep or particularly pleasant dreams had him waking up aroused.

In high school, it was more frequent than he'd like to admit. In adulthood, he was too busy for such indulgences and it often escaped his mind until the urges suddenly snuck up on him out of thin air.

He was pleasantly surprised that the lubricant was odorless as he coated his fingers with it. He posted his legs apart at a comfortable width and reached between his legs to massage the lube against the tight pucker of muscle. He had to remind himself to relax, realizing his body was far too tense for the experience. His other hand stroked his shaft with a loose grip, rolling his thumb against the smooth head as gentle jolts of pleasure wormed into his abdomen. 

His wrist brushed over the _Rod of Asclepius_ tattoo he had just below his navel. The serpent curved around the traditional wooden staff, with the base of the staff directed down towards his pubes. On each curve of the serpent's body was each word of his hippocratic oath, _Primum non nocere._ It was a shameless drunk decision back in his youth while he and Clarence were on leave. Clarence had a similar poorly made decision by inebriation when they visited Romania to see Castle Dracula for his birthday. His was a pair of bleeding fang marks on his right ass cheek. Jonathan even had pictures of him, ass up and bent over the tattoo table.

Jonathan tipped his head back into the pillows as he steadied his breathing to a shallow pace while slowly sliding a slick finger inside himself. His other hand kept the measured strokes, growing firmer when he felt a slight discomfort and smoothing it out with tickles of pleasure. His finger worked in shallow thrusts as he spread more of the lube around while his body acclimated to the intrusion. After a few more strokes, he slipped a second finger inside himself and crooked them at an angle, mentally mapping out his body as he searched for that special little bundle of nerves that would make everything feel better.

He was not disappointed when he found it. His jaw slackened as he stifled a moan, lips parted in little pants. His grasp on his shaft quickened, spreading lubricant along the head as he swiped the bead of precum from his slit. It really didn't take much to make him hard. He silently mourned his own decision when he withdrew his fingers, cheeks warmed by the flush of arousal as he busied his hands with generously coating the plug in lubricant then leveled the tapered tip against his entrance.

It took several shallow thrusts with the toy to ease it inside himself. He winced as his body adjusted to the stretch at the bulbous base before wrapping around the toy at the neck. He bit his lip and adjusted it by the flared base, trying to work the angle into something more comfortable until just the tip brushed against his prostate. His breath caught in his throat before he forced it out, matching pace with the music that continued to play as background noise. It wasn't as soothing as Geoffrey's playlist, but it helped ease his nerves about the new and unknown experience, and helped him to focus and relax.

The plug came with a remote which Jonathan had to squint at to try and make out the features. It took a few seconds for him to find the power button and started it at a low setting. He hissed through his teeth and sank back into the pillows with a pleasant sigh as the toy brushed up against his prostate. He widened his stance and adjusted his hips against the mattress, careful not to stray from the towel in the process. His hand returned to stroking his shaft in pace with the toy as pleasure started to build in quick succession. He clenched down on the plug as his body seemed to suck it in, tucking it up against that special place and drilling ecstasy into his nerves.

The sound that left him was shameful and he hoped to God the music was too loud for Clarence to overhear as he reveled in the pleasure. He had intended to take his time but his virginity for this type of play had other plans. He grabbed for the remote in an attempt to turn the vibrations off when he neared the edge, hoping to finish off at a more controlled pace. He fumbled with the button, finger slick with lubricant as he swiped the pad and accidentally leveled up the intensity of the vibrations. His plans on a smooth ending led the doctor to a powerful and complete orgasm that rattled through him in a crescendo of relief.

Jonathan bit off his voice and swallowed the long groan that formed in his throat. His head rolled back into the pillows as he panted, the evidence of his release painted his belly in a splatter of warmth and oozed over the curve of his hand. His free hand stumbled with the remote, this time successfully turning the device off as it went quiet inside him. The toy twitched as his sphincter clenched and unclenched around it, causing it to wiggle and brush against his prostate in little jolts of over-stimulation. He spread his legs wider and curled his toes as he reached around to slowly extricate the toy from his body, though it had other plans as it tried to pull it back in. It was a slow process, removing the plug and trying to collect himself enough to start cleaning up.

Every part of his body trembled with the thrill of his relief. Jonathan couldn't tell if it was due to the toy, the stimulation of his prostate or the fact he hasn't touched himself like this in quite a long time. Or maybe, it was a case of all of the above as he quietly shuffled through the motions and willed his legs to keep him standing long enough to wipe down with a warm wet towel, scrub his hands and put on some pants before collapsing on the nearest comfortable surface.

He probably shouldn't have been surprised when he left his bedroom, now completely dressed and refreshed, to find Clarence sitting at the kitchen counter with a knowing smile plastered on his face. He sipped at his cup of tea, barely concealing the smile behind the rim as Jonathan entered and made a b-line for the fridge. He stood in the doorway, searching the neatly stacked Tupperware containers full of fresh produce until he spied the one filled with strawberries. Stealing his treat, he doled out a few into a bowl before returning them to the fridge, blatantly ignoring the looks Clarence was aiming his way. Eventually the man couldn't help his curiosity or the chance to tease his friend, and broke the awkward silence first.

"Soooo did you enjoy your _research_?" His eyes followed Jonathan around the kitchen as the doctor popped a strawberry into his mouth and poured himself a cup of tea from the kettle, steeping a tea bag into the hot water until it was the appropriate strength.

"If I don't answer, will that incriminate me?" He asked as he took a test sip of his drink then rummaged through the cabinet to find their supply of honey. A few squirts stirred in with a spoon and Jonathan was content as he carried his post-coital snack to his favorite armchair in the living room.

"You're trembling, Jonny." Clarence pointed out. "And your face is beat red."

"With those symptoms I could be suffering from addiction withdrawal or low blood sugar." It was a smart mouthed comment that drew an amused smile from his own lips as he settled into his chair with a pleased groan. He denied the fact that it made him sound like an old man. He refused to acknowledge that age was something that will eventually catch up to him. Though he couldn't deny that Clarence was right. His legs felt like he'd ran a mile and his hands were shaking so much that he worried he would spill his tea, but it was a pleasant sort of tremor that left him feeling light and airy. Similar to a drug high and far better than the simpler acts of self-relief he's engaged in in the past.

"You know what I mean." Clarence groaned, trailing after the doctor into the living room where he threw himself onto the couch causing it to shudder. Jonathan scowled at him, pulling a sheepish and mumbled. "Sorry" from his friend.

"If it is imperative that you know the answer, then yes. I did enjoy my research. It was an eye opening experience." He bit into another strawberry and seized the book he had been reading earlier that was left on the side table beneath the lamp. He crossed his legs at the knees and winced inwardly at the subtle ache that lingered from the toy.

"That's great." Clarence stretched out, one leg hanging off the couch as he pawed after the coffee table to reach his abandoned controller. The gaming console beeped softly as it powered up, and Clarence turned the volume down to low, a few clicks shy of being mute as he resumed whatever game he had been paused in. It looked like some vampire horror from the early 1900's by what little Jonathan has seen of it. "So, are you going to report your findings to McHotty?"

"I'm not sure yet." Jonathan flipped to the marked page and resumed where he left off. "I may require more data before I can make a final conclusion."

Clarence snickered. "Sounds like progress to me."

"Indeed." He glanced up when Clarence sat up quickly and reached over to pilfer a strawberry from the doctor's bowl. Jonathan glared but it lacked any real heat in it. Clarence balanced his stolen prize between his teeth as he resumed his lazy lounge cat position and chewed at the juicy red fruit. It appeared the only times his friend ate healthy in a willing capacity involved moments of picking off of the plates of others. Most often from Jonathan back when they were in grade school as Clarence would swipe apple slices or carrots from his lunch pack while they chatted in the cafeteria. In adulthood, it continued and Jonathan didn't mind the old habit. Sometimes he would return the favor when stealing sweets or salty snacks from his friend when he wasn't looking, or was far too focused on whatever game he was playing at the time.


	8. Chapter 8

"This is the third time you've been late, Vinny!" O'Connor scolded the younger bartender from the back room, his voice raised only just enough to be heard over the clatter of trays and dishes in the back. It was only by the grace of Geoffrey's usual spot at the end of the bar that he could hear the argument through the double doors. And, in addition, catch a glimpse of Vincent's red faced embarrassment. The massive bruise on the side of his face was slowly healing which was a relief to everyone. The day he fell in the cooler was a surprise. He hadn't seen O'Connor so worried before and that included when Geoffrey would break up fights or intervene when sleazy dirt bags got too aggressive or eager around the female patrons.

It was no secret about Vincent's condition. They all knew about it for some reason or another. He kept it tight lipped as best he could but it was hard to stay silent when he kept having nosebleeds and dizzy spells in the first couple months of employment. O'Connor hired the lad cause he had nowhere else that would take him and work around his odd hours. Desk work would drive him insane and hard labor was too hazardous given his medical situation. Working behind a bar was easier, kept his twitchy hands busy and he had a charming and friendly disposition that a lot of patrons liked. He enjoyed socializing about as much as listening to others' problems, and when he did show up on time, he was a hard worker.

It was through these little encounters that Geoffrey met Vincent and grew closer with the man. Eventually taking both him and Vukasin in as occasional partners, sometimes alone, sometimes they would be together. It was the only time Geoffrey would agree to two subs at once and only because they had a unique relationship together that melted seamlessly with his own practices.

"I'm sorry sir. It won't happen again." Vincent apologized, his sheepish expression made him look years younger as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Don't lie to me lad, it's not flattering. Just promise me you'll work on being better." O'Connor chided.

"I promise sir."

"Good. Now get back out there. I'll have something for you made up in a bit." O'Connor scratched his bearded jaw as he observed Vincent closely with his soft grey eyes. Vincent nodded and ducked through the doors to return to his post behind the bar. It was still too early to start serving alcohol yet, but Geoffrey found comfort in his usual seat even if it lacked a beer in hand. O'Connor emerged from the kitchen and set Geoffrey's usual down in front of him with a soft drink to replace his usual beer.

"You keeping him on his toes?" Geoffrey teased as he reached for the bottle of barbecue sauce and added a bit to his burger.

"It's the other way around I'm afraid." O'Connor grunted and leaned his hip against the counter. He folded his arms over his chest as he watched Vincent like a hawk, carrying crates into the back room from the morning's shipment and rearranging the bottles behind the bar. He wore a pair of dark jeans and a black button up with the Drunken Rat Pub logo over the breast and a black apron tied to the front. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbow, the detailed bullet tattoo on the back of his hand was on full display. A caliber that Geoffrey recognized was the usual the sniper utilized, with the words _your name_ engraved on the side as if they'd been scratched in at the tip of a knife. Occasionally, when he'd bend and move Geoffrey could hear the man's tags rattling under his shirt. He was well aware that Vincent not only wore his dog tags, but also the spent bullet that pierced his back. It had been turned into a sort of good luck charm or some shite like that.

"Vinny." Geoffrey called when he neared the end of the bar. His head snapped up with surprise, turning to meet the Irishman's softened blue eyes. "You feeling alright now?" He gestured haphazardly towards the side of his own face to specify.

"Oh!" Vincent blurted in sudden understanding. "Yeah, I'm fine. The Doc gave me a new regiment so fingers crossed it works out."

"That's good. You didn't hurt your head or anything?"

"Nah." He chuckled. "I'm hard headed."

"It is hollow as vell." Vukasin interrupted as he entered the bar from the back stairway. The Serbian man lived in the small apartment upstairs but Geoffrey was aware that more often than not, he was living in Vincent's apartment down the street.

He adjusted the collar of his shirt, wearing a similar button up to Vincent's with the bar logo on it in white embroidery. The image of an inebriated rat laid lazily across the words as it held a pint of beer. "I heard it. It hit the cooler and rang like bell."

"It did not!" Vincent protested, shaking his head at the Serbian as Vukasin smiled mockingly. Vincent huffed and picked up another crate to take into the back while Vukasin clocked in at the front counter, tapping the touch screen of the register. He glanced over his shoulder as Geoffrey busied himself with his meal.

"Trouble comes in twos." He smirked, earning a laugh from O'Connor who nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

"You have no idea with those two."

"I think I have a good one." Geoffrey popped a chip into his mouth. "Just a little bit."

O'Connor snorted and returned to his work when the front door chimed to announce new customers. Geoffrey stayed in his spot as he worked at his lunch. Customers came and went, floating in and out until it was time for the booze to start flowing. It started to become more lively and Geoffrey indulged in his first drink of the day, relaxing back against the bar to glance at the troublesome duo. Vincent had his hands full with Delaney who regurgitated some sob story or another at him. There were two college age kids sitting at a booth chattering loudly with books spread across the table that didn't look like they'd be getting any proper attention aside from being used as plate holders. A couple sports types wandered in and hiked themselves up onto the stools, turning their attention towards the television behind the bar while a commercial played.

Geoffrey was halfway through his pint when he spied the Serbian shifting uncomfortably by the bar. His eyes were unfocused as if he were distracted by something. His shoulder rolled a couple times, the discomfort settled on his features with growing unease until he turned abruptly and slipped behind the counter, making a straight line for O'Connor.

"What is it?" The Irishman asked, tossing a halfhearted glance over his shoulder to spy the Serbian at his back. 

"I need first aid kit." He grunted.

"You alright?"

"Yes." He was curt with his answer.

O'Connor caught Geoffrey's eye as the man listened in over the growing ambiance of patrons. "Need any help?"

"I can do it myself."

"What's going on?" Geoffrey leaned a little over the bar to catch their attention, his palms pressed flat against the counter.

"Nothing." Vukasin answered tiredly as O'Connor replied.

"He needs some first aid attention."

"I can help." Geoffrey volunteered.

"Unnecessary." Vukasin blanched.

Geoffrey raised an incredulous brow and slipped off the stool. "I'm going to assume by the way you've been fidgeting that it has to do with your back. Am I right?"

There was a quiet grunt of acknowledgement.

"Then let me help. It'll go faster."

"It is not need-"

"Vukasin." Geoffrey spoke firmly, well aware of the Serbian's habit to ghost and avoid especially when the topic involved self-care. "I'm going to help. Come on."

He nodded them towards the back room, stopping on the way to grab the first aid kit O'Connor kept behind the bar. They cut through the kitchen to a tiny offshoot that led to a small office that was more like a broom cupboard than anything else. Somehow O'Connor managed to cram a desk, chair and filing cabinet into the small space. Geoffrey spun the chair around so Vukasin could lean against the back like an arm rest. "Sit down." He commanded sharply.

Vukasin glared but eventually conceded. His fingers started the tedious task of unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging the dark fabric off to expose the smear of red over scarred and bumpy skin. His left side was badly damaged by bits of shrapnel from his days in the military. An explosive device that went off too close, and poorly done medical care left the Serbian with prickly foreign objects occasionally protruding from his skin like the quills of a porcupine. This wasn't the first time Geoffrey has sat in on removing debris that slowly made its way to the surface. He's watched Vincent do it for him enough times.

It wasn't the most pleasant view to look at, Geoffrey will admit it. The first couple times he'd seen it had been jarring. He understood Vukasin's dislike for close contact and his need for privacy. He had a hard time trusting others and allowing them in close, which led to the incredibly rocky road Geoffrey had to travel to gain his trust, much of which was beside Vincent. Like having a therapy goat for a traumatized pitbull. He was likely to bite and snarl when he felt vulnerable. Vincent eased them both through the rough patches and showed Geoffrey how to handle situations like these when a tender touch and a firm hand were both required.

It took a while for Geoffrey to get used to the grisly sight and even longer to get comfortable with handling the area when the situation called for it. Such as now, as he opened the first aid box. It was a repurposed toolbox organized neatly with a leather pouch of tools just for Vukasin's situation. It consisted of tweezers, a scalpel, a sewing kit and a small bottle of iodine to apply to the open wound and clean it properly. Gauze, peroxide, saline and assorted other bandages were available for use in the rest of the box.

The hardest part was getting Vukasin to sit still and stop squirming. Geoffrey used a paper towel to wipe the blood away from the broken skin so he could see what he was working with. Backtracking into the kitchen, he got a basin of warm water and scrubbed his hands, returning to the office where he plucked a pair of gloves from the box inside the kit and started the task of carefully cleaning and removing the debris from Vukasin's back.

The Serbian glared fiercely at the opposing wall as Geoffrey worked the tweezers around the open injury. Vincent wasn't joking when he often compared Vukasin to a porcupine and it wasn't just for his prickly demeanor and sharp attitude. "Hold still."

Vukasin grunted but obeyed, settling against the chair while Geoffrey rotated between tweezers to the damp paper towel and back. He left the bits and pieces on a dry piece of paper towel spread out on the desk while he picked at what he could reach. His fingers pressed gently against the bulge beneath his skin and winced inwardly. He was by no means a doctor but he was well aware of the precarious situation Vukasin was in.

"You really should get this checked out." Geoffrey urged. He was answered with another emotionless grunt signalling that the Serbian was in no mood to converse about the state of his physical well being, or any other topic altogether. He sighed and shook his head as he proceeded to remove as much as he could while wiping away blood smears. He gently brushed his palm over the expanse of darker pock marked skin searching for any signs of missed pieces before moving on to the next part. He cleaned each wound with close attention to detail and applied gauze and band aids where it was appropriate.

He did one last look, scrutinizing the mess that was the Serbian's old injuries before calling it good enough. He peeled back the gloves with an audible snap as he spoke up. "You're good now."

Vukasin wasted no time in shrugging his shirt back on, covering up the intricate details of an Eagle tattoo that took up the majority of the unmarred portion of his left shoulder. The predator was frozen in a shadowy swoop, talons and beak prepared to strike. It felt fitting in a way for the man. All sharp wits and sharper knives as he stalked through the crowded areas with suspicion in his eyes, critically scanning the room for threats and troublemakers like the aforementioned bird of prey.

"Thank you." Vukasin didn't look towards the Irishman as he spoke, but Geoffrey got the gist. "It vas unnecessary." He added.

"You say that but I doubt you're eager to be practicing yoga trying to reach them." He patted a hand against the small of Vukasin's back as they shuffled around the tiny space of the office to put everything back in order. Geoffrey took his time cleaning up the mess and collected the disaster that had become O'Connor's desk. When he emerged from his task, he found Vincent stooped over the stainless steel counter of the kitchen practically inhaling a bacon cheeseburger as quickly as was humanly possible while he had the small reprieve. O'Connor stood behind the bar, allowing Vincent a moment to eat before returning to work.


	9. Chapter 9

"Safeword?"

"Leeches."

"Good."

Jonathan took a seat on the bed as per their usual routine now. He was far more comfortable with this whole concept than he was on day one, even as he undressed in front of Geoffrey, removing his shirt and exposing himself to the open air of the room. He treated it the same way he would approach an examination. With a clinical mindset, covering up any sense of embarrassment or shame he may feel from it. The fact that Geoffrey was so compassionate and professional made it easier.

Today they were delving into the curious concept of temperature play. Geoffrey waited for him to get comfortable before handing him the blindfold. The soft black satin fabric caressed his face as it settled over the broken crook of his nose and shielded the pink scarring that marred his cheek. He let his head settle back against the pillows and lifted his hands for Geoffrey to adjust as needed. The bed, Jonathan discovered, had various anchor points that could be utilized for different types of bondage. 

His wrists were bound in the padded restraints, set comfortably apart in alignment with the posts at the headboard. He gave them a test pull to feel how sturdy they were. 

"You alright?" Geoffrey asked once both of his wrists were locked in place.

"Yes." Jonathan answered with a nod. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit nervous. Anticipation was something he discovered was an addictive sensation. That thrill of the unknown accompanied by the chosen helplessness. It was intoxicating and only fueled that scandalous side that he enjoyed.

It was the guessing game, he supposed. Trying to read the room and listen in to Geoffrey's movements through the quiet sound of music playing in the background. Soft melodies that allowed him to focus his breathing and relax into the mattress. He counted the beats like seconds ticking away until the first touch of fingers trailed gingerly along the dip of his belly. The warmth of Geoffrey's touch left him pliant, chasing after every bit of stimulation offered. The warm pads of his fingers trailed across the base of his belly then back up towards his navel where it circled before withdrawing.

Jonathan shivered, a small breath escaped his throat when an ice cold drop of water splashed his stomach, soon followed by a second then a third. The cold tip of Geoffrey's damp fingers trailed gingerly over the previous warm tracks he traced into his skin. They withdrew just as quickly as they came, his breath evened out with the growing excitement. It came, once again as a shock as the cold tip of what he presumed to be an ice cube drew a chilling line along the curve of his neck. His wrists jolted against the padding in surprise, a shameless sound met the air and warmed his cheeks. The wet streak it left behind cooled with the air and lingered against his skin.

His thoughts raced as he tried to anticipate Geoffrey's next move. The soft moan that slipped free was coaxed out of him by the warm soft item that pressed against the cooler skin of his belly. He didn't know what it was that Geoffrey used, but it felt like a hot pad thawing his skin and unraveling him more. It was the size of a finger and drew little lines that tickled his skin and eased a breath from his chest in a contented sigh.

It left as quickly as it arrived and was replaced by the ice cube that traced his right collarbone. Goosebumps spread rapidly across his body as he gave in to the little game. Warm and cold interchangeable and maddeningly exciting. Jonathan couldn't anticipate their placements, each came as a surprise and drew sparks of delight and relief from his body. Quiet sighs and shuddering breaths, his wrists would tug occasionally when a cold touch was particularly startling. At one point he heard the quiet chuckle of amusement from the Irishman and felt his cheeks burn with warmth as his heart fluttered in his chest. His toes curled as cold water slid like tear drops down his chest and the warm tool swept them away with burning heat that nestled into the pit of his belly, fueling a surprising puddle of arousal at the base of his abdomen.

His pants felt uncomfortably tight which spurred on a sudden state of alarm. They hadn't exactly discussed this portion of their sessions and Jonathan wasn't comfortable enough yet with Geoffrey that he would cross their currently set boundaries to seek out that sort of pleasure. He calmed the nervous pace of his heart and took a deep breath before speaking. "Leeches."

He heard something hit the table beside the bed, like Geoffrey knocked over a bottle or container. "You alright, Jonathan?"

"I um-" He gave a gentle tug on the restraints while he searched for an answer. "I have a _problem._ " Geoffrey wasted no time in removing the cuffs, skilled fingers quickly removing the buckles from his wrists. Jonathan felt the man kneeling on the edge of the bed to reach over him, one hand resting on his shoulder in a silent command not to sit up just yet.

Once he was free, Geoffrey guided Jonathan up and sat down beside him. The look of concern on his face was a welcome sight when the doctor removed the blindfold. Geoffrey had a clean dry towel in hand and offered it to him to wipe down and dry off.

"Thank you." Jonathan murmured as he accepted the towel.

"You feeling alright?" Geoffrey asked carefully, searching Jonathan's expression for any signs of distress or alarm.

"To an extent, yes. I very much enjoyed that. Which in here lies the problem." He was very pointed with the last word, causing Geoffrey to stray with a look of confusion before he noticed the _problem._ A sudden understanding passed between them and Geoffrey cracked a reassuring smile.

"If you're comfortable, I could assist, or you can take a bit of time in the bathroom. Or I could offer a distraction until you can calm down."

"I think I may take you up on your offer of a distraction." Jonathan folded the towel in his hands after wiping all the water off of his chest. A slight shiver raced through his shoulders with a sigh. Geoffrey got up and retrieved Jonathan's shirt, handing it off for the doctor to get dressed before heading into the living room space. Jonathan buttoned up his shirt and relished in the comfort of being clothed. Geoffrey already had a blanket laid out on the coffee table for him to wrap up in and warm up which he gratefully accepted as he settled onto the couch.

The Irishman returned with a bottle of water from the fridge and set it down in front of Jonathan before joining him on the sofa, reclining casually so they were facing one another. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

"Nothing that I can think of at the moment." Jonathan admitted sheepishly. His mindset was still entrenched in their play and the discomfort he was currently in due to his predicament. He shifted on the couch so he had one leg tucked under himself.

"Alright, how about you tell me about you and your friend Clarence? Would that be alright?" Geoffrey offered thoughtfully. "From the sounds of it, he's really important to you."

"We've known each other since grade school." Jonathan answered as he adjusted the blanket around his shoulders. The fabric was incredibly soft with the subtle fragrance of detergent lingering on it. The music still played as background noise, just a quiet addition beneath their words but nothing too distracting. "We've always been together to some extent. We even served in the military together."

Geoffrey raised a brow at that. "You served?"

"I was a doctor and spent most of my time on base." He elaborated. "I didn't get shot at, fortunately. I can't say the same for Clarence though." He sighed.

"But you still stuck together afterwards?"

"Yes. In fact, he's currently my roommate. Him and his wife had a messy divorce. He spends his time occupying my couch more often than not." Jonathan chuckled. "Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy having him around. He keeps things interesting."

"Like talking you into trying the app." Geoffrey pointed out. 

Jonathan nodded with an amused smile. "Yes. And putting googly eyes on everything in my home including my house plant."

"How did he manage that?"

"I was working a double and came home late. I didn't even notice until the next morning when the coffee pot was grinning at me." Jonathan patted a hand for his pocket and frowned before he remembered that his phone was in his coat pocket. He held up a hand to pause their conversation while he briskly tip toed to the coat rack by the door then returned with the device. He leaned closer to Geoffrey as he flicked through the gallery on his phone until it came up to pictures of several different items in his home, including the coffee pot and Jonathan's house plant, Lisa. All of which had varying sized googly eyes on them. "He has a lot of free time on his hands, might I add."

"I can see that." Geoffrey snickered as they flicked through the images. It ended with a photograph of Jonathan in sunglasses and a tight white t-shirt. A marathon number attached to the front of his shirt and a grin spread across his face. Clarence had his arm slung around Jonathan's shoulders. His fingers spread in a peace sign behind the doctor's head as they smiled and made faces at the camera. In the background was PEMBROKE 5K on a banner. A charity run that happened each year to pull in funds for the hospital and its different research branches.

They talked for some time, Jonathan shared more pictures with Geoffrey and they discussed other topics. Their attention shifted from Clarence and Jonathan, to their favorite music which was spurred on by a familiar song on Geoffrey's playlist. They talked music for a bit before it led to movies and then strayed to various different topics. Time ran away from them when they did finally get around to ending their session. Jonathan felt better and more calm, and Geoffrey appeared to be more at ease with the casual conversation. Overall, they both seemed pleased when the night ended and they parted ways.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Jonathan was feeling rejuvenated lately since he started his regular sessions with Geoffrey. His stress melted away, he was sleeping better than he ever had in years and his productivity and focus at work had seen a substantial increase. Nurse Hawkins and Nurse Branagan both commented on the natural glow that seemed to radiate off of the doctor when he entered the ER. That had spurred on a few rumors that he must be in a relationship though he refused to confirm or deny them. His staff could gossip as they pleased and make as many speculations to their heart's content. It wouldn't shake his pleasant mood any.

"How are you feeling today, Mr. Bonner?" He greeted as he entered one of the enclosed examination rooms. Vincent was alone today, looking worse for wear. He offered a smile to the doctor, a valiant effort to hide the troubled look in his eyes.

"Oh, you know Doc. The usual." He tried to sound chipper but the discomfort was there. He wasn't in his usual reclined position, stretched or sprawled in lazy comfort in the bed. Instead he remained seated, shoulders hunched and tight. His knuckles gripped the sheet of the bed a little tighter as he shifted and stifled a wince. He was alone today, which was unusual for him. 

"No Mr. Babic today?"

"He's at home writing letters to his Bako." Vincent regarded the confused look from the doctor. "His grandmother." He elaborated.

"I see." Jonathan dragged a critical eye over his patient. "You didn't drive, did you?"

"I got a ride from a friend." Vincent explained. Since his recent stint of dizzy spells and nose bleeds, Jonathan wasn't comfortable with the idea of Vincent operating a motor vehicle. They had discussed this problem already and he was pleased to know the man had taken the concerns into consideration.

"What seems to be the problem today? You mentioned pain in your chest?"

"Sort of. In my back." He directed with a haphazard gesture of his hand. "Near my old injury."

"And this started recently?" Jonathan inquired, moving to the computer in the corner to look over Vincent's medical information. His vitals were their usual, always a bit too high for comfort but they were working on that with his current regiment.

"Yeah. It was sore a while back but I didn't think nothin of it. Just a pulled muscle from work." Vincent started to explain. "But I felt it the other day, like there's a lump or something."

"Let me take a look." Jonathan grabbed a pair of gloves while Vincent slowly peeled his shirt up over his head. He winced and groaned, drawing Jonathan to help him get it up the rest of the way. The younger man turned so his back was facing the doctor. There was a dark patch of scars across his back where Jonathan had removed a bullet that was dangerously close to his spine. It was a miracle that the hostile missed as they did. He had been peppered a few times, a few grazes had littered his body when Vincent threw himself protectively over his partner. They fired back and killed the assailant and dragged Vincent down to street level to evacuate quickly.

Jonathan remembered that day and he spent a long time tending to the soldier's injuries and later, his blood disease. Had it not been for the bullet, they wouldn't have noticed his illness. Vincent had kept quiet about the headaches he had started having at the time, along with the fact he was having a hard time seeing through his scope. He blamed it on the heat but the truth was far more deadly.

"You're right. There is something there. It doesn't quite feel like a muscle." Jonathan inspected the lump that was slightly raised against his back. "I'm going to send you to get x-rays just to be sure." 

"Alright." Vincent sighed, reaching for his shirt before pausing. 

"Would you like a gown for now?"

"Probably." Vincent shook his head in defeat and carefully removed his tags from around his neck along with the belongings in his pockets. Jonathan assisted him as necessary then sent Nurse Hawkins in to take care of the rest. In the meantime, Jonathan busied himself with other patients and flitted around the ER, checking on a pediatric with a fever and an elderly man complaining of shortness of breath. It took everything in Jonathan's power to not point out that the man's chain smoking habit may be the cause of his respiratory problems. When he was finished, Nurse Hawkins informed him that the x-rays were ready. 

He made his way to examine them and stopped cold at the first glance. "This isn't good." He muttered, holding the screen as he focused on the large white mass that had formed near Vincent's spine. It never ceased to disappoint him when he was forced to deliver bad news to a patient, especially someone as troubled as Vincent was. He just couldn't catch a break.


	10. Chapter 10

"You alright, Vinny?" Geoffrey asked, inspecting the far off look of his sub. It was the middle of the week, not exactly a day that Geoffrey indulges in his hobby given he has work, but when Vincent texted him asking if they could do a session, he decided to oblige his friend. He seemed a bit off from the moment he showed up at Geoffrey's door. For one, he was quieter than usual.

Vincent was a notorious mouth off and a rambler during sex. He found every opportunity to make sarcastic commentary, bad jokes and foolish remarks, always with that contagious grin plastered on his face. Today, it was forced when he offered the smile to Geoffrey in greeting and stiffly removed his jacket. He opted to undress in the bathroom instead of out in the open which was his usual routine, more often than not while making a show of it.

He made a few sarcastic comments but they were weak compared to his usual material. When Geoffrey asked him if he was alright, Vincent brushed it off as being tired. He was restless, and thought running a session would burn off his pent up energy. From the way Geoffrey saw it, he wasn't even antsy. His fingers weren't twitchy, his mouth wasn't running and he settled easily into the bed and quietly obeyed every direction Geoffrey gave him without any lip.

He'd expect this more from Vukasin than Vincent.

"I'm fine." Vincent echoed his last two responses on autopilot, his face buried into the pillows as he laid on his side, his right leg bound ankle to thigh with a leather strap and his right wrist attached with a cuff around the wrist. His left ankle was stretched out and bound to the bedpost with similar padded restraints, and his left arm was stretched above his head to the opposite bed post. It was Vincent's chosen position for this session, mentioning that his back was sore from work and this was more comfortable. Geoffrey humored him and decided to forego their usual sex and just used toys to pleasure him. Currently a medium sized vibrating plug was humming away inside his ass with a cockring clasped around the base of his shaft.

Geoffrey watched Vincent carefully, examining his body language for any signs of trouble. Vincent kept his face tucked into the pillows with his eyes fixed on the edge of the bed. The silence was unnerving and the occasional tension wound in his back would pull a wince from Vincent that he would attempt to cover with a poorly done moan.

Geoffrey had asked twice already. Vincent neglected to accept the olive branch he was extending and use his safeword. The Irishman had seen enough.

"Priwen." He stated firmly, signalling the end to their session. He turned the vibrator off using the small remote in his hand.

Vincent shifted on the bed to look up at Geoffrey and grimaced. "What's wrong?"

"I'm going to ask you the same question." Geoffrey spoke pointedly, stepping around the edges of the bed to begin releasing the restraints that kept Vincent bound. He slowly eased his body into a comfortable position, allowing the Englishman a chance to adjust if need be.

"I told you, I'm fine." Vincent protested, brows furrowed in frustration as Geoffrey released his hands. He sat up immediately and stiffened. A quiet sound muffled in his throat drew a concerned look from the dom.

"Did you get in a fight with Vukasin?"

"No." Vincent grunted.

Geoffrey's gaze sharpened as he examined his sub closely. Vincent had opted out of their more physical hands on interactions that often accompanied their sessions. Which normally isn't that big of a deal, except this is Vincent he was talking about. Vincent was a cuddler. He was a needy clingy sub when he wanted to be. He thrived from attention, praise and physical contact, both in everyday life and in their private sessions.

"You're hurt." Geoffrey stated carefully.

"I told you my back was sore." Vincent shrugged and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching between himself and the mattress to pull the plug out of himself. His teeth worried his bottom lip, breaking healing skin until it was raw and bloody again. His hands busied themselves in removing the cockring and setting it on a clean hand towel on the nightstand. Geoffrey was already standing beside him with another to help Vincent wipe down and get the excess lube off of himself. He accepted it with a quiet sigh.

"It's not just that." Geoffrey nudged, stepping in close as he settled a hand on his sub's shoulder. Vincent's head hung as he nodded slowly. A subtle motion that would have been easily missed. Geoffrey's fingers combed through the mess of dark curls that bobbed as he continued. "You're upset. Would you like to talk about it?"

"I don't know." Vincent leaned forward until his forehead rested against the Irishman's stomach.

"How about this? You get dressed, I'll make some coco and we can sit on the couch and talk." Geoffrey combed his fingers through his bangs and dropped them to caress the side of Vincent's face. They hooked under his jaw and drew his head up to meet the dark blue of Geoffrey's gaze. Vincent's eyes were troubled. A storm was brewing in their emerald green hues, leaving them clouded and distant. Geoffrey could see the pain in them, the conflicted emotions warring inside a fragile heart. Vincent was a fighter, he had made his mark in a war and it returned the favor with equal brutality. And yet, he returned just as soft hearted as when he left. He remained the sentimental soft young man that ran off to serve King and Country, and came back devastated with a dark shadow that followed him everywhere. It was a sickness that rivaled his own ailment.

"Okay." Geoffrey stepped away as Vincent accepted the idea with barely a whispered confirmation. They parted to accomplish their separate tasks. Geoffrey brought the supplies from his own apartment for the coco, a staple in the younger man's aftercare routine. Sweets, warm drinks and cuddling were something that accompanied every end to their session. At least those that didn't end with Vincent going to a hospital because he has a nosebleed that hasn't stopped in thirty minutes. Coincidentally, his safeword of choice was _Blood_. He thought it was amusing. Geoffrey wasn't as amused after Vincent shouted it during a session moments after the Irishman had penetrated him. He may have had a moment of panic before he realized it was just Vincent asking to adjust cause his leg was cramping and he was getting a charlie horse. Vincent's smug grin made Geoffrey very tempted to ignore his pleas later on when he begged for Geoffrey to take the cockcage off so he could cum.

He would tease his friend to the end of time, but he would never hurt or endanger him. Both Vincent and Vukasin knew that well.

By time Vincent came back out in a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a dark grey t-shirt, Geoffrey had a blanket sitting on the adjacent cushion beside him and a cup of coco already hot and waiting for him on the coffee table. Geoffrey had a bottle of water for himself and sat expectantly for his friend to join him. He watched as Vincent unraveled the blanket and sank down onto the couch with his legs crossed underneath him. The warm soft material was draped over his shoulders and wrapped snug around himself. One hand reached out to retrieve the drink and take a few sips before they started.

Geoffrey was the first to break the silence, adjusting himself so he was facing Vincent completely, one leg tucked under his body as he leaned back against the arm of the sofa. "So what's up? You've been quiet all night."

Vincent shrugged, his fingers fiddled anxiously with the handle of the mug as he worked the words around in his mouth. Geoffrey kept a close eye on the way he avoided his gaze and fidgeted in his seat. The twitchy motions were a welcome relief but the continued silence still concerned him.

"I um-" Vincent cleared his throat and dipped his head. "I've been to the hospital three times this week."

That didn't sound good. "What's wrong? Is the new regiment not working?"

"It is. Sort of. They think." Vincent's words were choppy and uncertain. He frowned down at the mug and let go of the warm ceramic. His palm scrubbed against his cheek as he quickly wiped away a stray tear. "I have a uh, a growth against my spine."

' _Oh no.'_

"If I don't get it removed, it could cause problems. Could even paralyze me." He let out a dry laugh. It was brittle and forced. "But the surgery to fix it could kill me just the same with my condition."

"Oh god, Vinny I'm sorry." Geoffrey leaned forward, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder to console him. There wasn't anything he could say that could fix this. There were no kind words to make him feel better. Every thought that came to mind sounded like a half-assed sentiment that you'd find in a cheap card store.

"The dying part doesn't scare me so much. Being a paralyzed vegetable isn't that enticing." Vincent cracked a bitter joke as he turned into Geoffrey's touch and sought out the older man's inviting embrace. Geoffrey wrapped his arms around him and pulled him tight against his chest. The tears fell faster now, hot against his cheeks and soaking into the front of Geoffrey's shirt. "I'm scared, I don't know how to tell Vuka."

"If something happens to me…" His voice trailed for a moment. Geoffrey hushed Vincent quietly and patted a hand through his hair, sliding it down his back. His fingers stopped ever so gently when he felt Vincent twitch. He retracted his hand quickly when he realized he could _feel_ the growth between his shoulder blades.

"Nothing's going to happen to you, Vinny. The Doc's gonna get you fixed up good and proper." He assured. "And Vukasin will be there to complain and tease you when you wake up. You can't kick off yet. You haven't finished annoying the shit out of him."

Vincent laughed, a choked off sound that mingled with a sob. Geoffrey grimaced and sighed, gently massaging his palm over his lower back to soothe him. "It'll be alright, Vinny."

It took a long time for Vincent to calm down as Geoffrey curled him against his chest and held him close. The warm weight shuddered and shifted against him for what felt like nearly an hour. The heavy weight of his head braced against the crook of Geoffrey's shoulder. He checked on Vincent several times throughout until he was breathing even and relaxed. When he finally sat up, Vincent cupped his head and rubbed at his swollen eyes. Geoffrey carefully extricated himself from his spot on the couch to get him a bottle of water to sip at while they continued their conversation.

"Do you know which doctor will be doing your surgery?" He handed off the bottle to Vincent and plopped back down into his spot. The younger man seemed content to stay sitting up now, nursing the water as he willed away the headache that throbbed behind his eyes.

"Dr. Reid." Vincent answered between sips and capped the bottle. His brows furrowed as he stared at Geoffrey in puzzlement

Geoffrey ignored the heat that rushed upon his face at the pointed look. He crooked his jaw and averted his gaze, searching for something else to change the topic to. Geoffrey was aware that Jonathan would be a very busy man and he of course would tend to a lot of people in his daily routine. Geoffrey just...forgot and it was awkward to think about Jonathan in a professional capacity without thinking of him as his sub. Maybe it meant he was harboring additional feelings for the doctor other than the usual bond he formed with his partners, and Geoffrey may blame that on the fact he had an eye on the doctor every time he entered the ER. He wasn't blind, he could still appreciate a living work of art when he saw one. Titles didn't mean he couldn't fantasize. Though now, he realized that may be biting him in the ass.

"Don't tell me you have a thing for Dr. Reid." Vincent laughed, catching the look in Geoffrey's eyes and recognizing it for what it was. Geoffrey cursed his skill for observation and shook his head.

"I heard from McKinley that he's the only one that is willing to deal with your attitude when you come in." Vincent teased. 

Geoffrey frowned at his sub but allowed the jabbing commentary if only to nurture his good mood. "I don't have an attitude."

"You have the attitude of a wet cat when you're drunk."

"I wasn't drunk either."

"Sure you weren't." Vincent chuckled. "Sooo since you've got eyes on my surgeon, can I expect you by my bedside?"

"I don't have- it's not like that Vinny. We're keeping it professional." Geoffrey snapped but his friend had already caught the scent of blood and he was on the hunt. Geoffrey was aware that Vincent was using him as a distraction to avoid his own problems and it wasn't necessarily a healthy coping mechanism but he figured it wouldn't hurt to allow him just this once.

"Why does that sound like you really aren't?"

"Because you're hearing what you want to hear. And you just want gossip." Geoffrey's tone was accusatory but still friendly.

"Rude." Vincent blanched. "That's not all I want."

Geoffrey raised a brow in confusion. "Why do I have the feeling you're going to say a blow job?"

"Oh, you know me so well." Vincent chirped. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


It was late by the time their session ended. Geoffrey called Vukasin as he was just getting off of work for the night and informed him of the situation with Vincent. He kept the information at a bare minimum and simply informed him that Vincent was having a rough time and Geoffrey didn't think it was safe leaving him alone. The Serbian man assured him he would meet the pair at Vincent's apartment and stay with him the rest of the night. Vincent's mood had gotten better since his breakdown but Geoffrey didn't want to take any chances. The drive over to the apartment was quiet and Vincent drifted off, more tired now than upset. His chin balanced in his palm as he gazed out at the passing lights of the city. He could barely stand on his feet as he trudged up the steps to the second floor where Vukasin awaited them.

Vincent didn't waste any time crawling into bed while Geoffrey pulled the Serbian man out into the hallway where they could talk in private. He could see the lost look in Vukasin's eyes as he processed what Geoffrey was saying.

"He needs you. You both do." Geoffrey reminded gently, reaching out to touch Vukasin's shoulder and draw his attention. "I'll be here if either of you need anything. Just call me."

Vukasin answered with a nod. Geoffrey stepped inside to check on Vincent one more time, catching a glimpse of the man burrowed under half a dozen blankets with his face stuffed into a haphazard pile of pillows. Only the tips of his toes and the curly dark mop of hair could be seen from the doorway. As he was leaving, he glanced back and spotted Vukasin taking a seat on the side of the bed and reaching out to brush a hand over his hair. Vincent adjusted, wiggling under the blankets to squirm towards the Serbian's lap.

Geoffrey smiled, a bitter and broken smile before departing for the evening. The drive home was long and painfully silent.


End file.
